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1 

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32X 


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6 

HISTORY,    PROPHECY 


AND 


THE    MONUMENTS 


•ine 


HISTORY,    PROPHECY 


AND 


THE  MONUMENTS 


OR 


ISRAEL  AND  THE  NATIONS 


BY 


JAMES  FREDERICK  McCURDY,  Pii.D,  LL.D. 

PROFESSOR   OF  ORIENTAL   LANOUAGES  IN 
UNIVERSITY   COLLEGE,   TORONTO 


VOLUME   III 

COMPLETING   THE   WORK 


3/4^ 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 
1901 


All  rights  reserved 


■■■■■ 


1 


Copyright,  1901, 
By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


J.  8.  CuBhinK  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Msig.  U.S.A. 


EllRATA 


Through  a  misunderstanding,  the  text  of  this  vohime  was 
printed  oft"  before  some  needed  corrections  could  be  made  in 
the  phites.     A  brief  list  of  emendations  is  here  given :  — 

Page  xxiii,  line  1,  for  "  Sneud  "  read :  Smeud. 

P.  9,  note,  1.  6,  for  "  Ebel "  read :  ICbal. 

P.  22,  11.  18,  19,  for  "  movements  "  read :  monuments. 

P.  179,  1.  5  from  end,  read:  Jehoiakini. 

P.  187,  1.  IG,  for  *'  hath  "  read :  doetli. 

P.  2,'ia,  1.  4  from  end,  for  "  we  "  read  :  thee. 

P.  248,  1.  2,  for  "  their  resistible  "  read  :  the  irresistible. 

P.  261,  1.  18,  for  "  contest  "  read  :  context. 

P.  290,  1.  1  of  the  notes,  omit  ^  after  viag. 

P.  314,  1.  10  from  end,  for  "  were  in  themselves  "  read :  was 
in  itself. 

P.  318,  11,  11,  12,  read :  Jehoiachin. 

P.  339,  1. 16,  for  "  near  "  read  :  now.  " 

P.  348,  note,  1.  5,  read :  Asshurnasirpal. 

P.  404,  1.  20,  read :  Hyraades. 


m^m 


TO 
DAVID  BENTON  JONES 

AND 

THOMAS    DA  VIES    JONES 

IN     REMEMBRANCE     OF 

PRINCETON,  1872-1876 

AND    BEYOND 


PREFACE  TO  VOLUME  THREE 


It  is  now  over  four  years  since  the  publication  of  the 
second  instuhnent  of  the  present  work.    TJ,e  completion  of 
my  task  has  been  retarded  by  many  interruptions,  of  which 
the  most  serious  came  from  tlie  necessity  laid  upon  me 
ot  preparmg  a  somewhat  lengtliy  biography  of  a  deceased 
friend.     Of  the  scope  and  subject-matter  of  this  volume 
little  needs  to  be  said.     The  importance  attached  to  the 
Hebrew  prophecy  of   the   period   is   justified  when    one 
considers   how   greatly  the   inner   as  w^ell   as   the  outer 
life  of  Israel  was  affected  by  other  nations  and  peoples 
Moreover,  the  essential  character  of  prophecy  is  still  mis- 
understood  by  most  educated  people,  and  in  the  popular 
exposition  of  the  prophets  little  attention  is  paid  to  the 
permanent  and  essential   elements  of  their   unique   dis- 
courses.   The  best  way  to  begin  the  study  of  the  prophets 
18  to  learn  how  their  word  and  work  are  interwoven  with 
the  life  and  history  of  their  times.      I  have  also  made 
an  attempt  to  connect  the  non-prophetic  and  indirectly 
prophetic  literature  of  Israel  with  its  historical  occasions 
or  antecedents,  though  in  this  region  of  inquiry  we  tread 
upon  much  more  uncertain  ground. 

I  have  again  to  express  my  gratitude  for  the  kindness 
With  which  the  two  earlier  volumes  have  been  everywhere 
received.  For  several  corrections  in  matters  of  fact  and 
of  opinion  I  have  to  thank  those  eminent  specialists  who 

vii 


via 


PREFACE 


have  honoured  the  work  with  their  notice.  Of  non- 
specialist  critics  a  very  few  have  been  unfair;  and  two 
of  these,  in  spite  of  the  warning  of  my  first  preface,  have 
indulged  in  anonymous  scurrility.  These,  however,  were 
writers  for  the  London  Saturday  Review  and  the  Edin- 
burgh Scotsman. 

The  volume  closes  with  the  end  of  the  Babylonian  exile, 
and  thus  rounds  out  the  period  during  which  the  con- 
temporary monuments  illustrate  the  history  and  prophecy 
of  Israel.  This  epoch  is  also  a  turning-point  in  the  career 
of  the  Hebrew  people,  so  that  the  subsequent  times  must 
be  treated  from  a  different  point  of  view. 


J.  FREDERICK  McCURDY. 


TOEONTO, 

November  24, 1900. 


Of   noii- 

and  two 

Face,  have 

iver,  were 

;he  Edin- 

lian  exile, 
the  con- 
prophecy 
he  career 
nes  must 

;URDY. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.   Ill 


Book  IX 

HEBREWS  AND  EGYPTIANS 


CHAPTER  I 

The  Kingdom  of  Judah  under  Josun.     §  835-841.     P.  1-5 

§  835.  Special  place  of  Israel  in  the  closing  Assyrian  period  —  §  836.  Re- 
lations with  the  Ea.stern  powers  — §  837.  The  forward  outlook  and  the 
part  played  by  P:gypt-§  838.  Effect  of  international  relations  on  the 
inner  life  of  the  people  —  §  839.  Political  relations  of  Judah  at  the  acces- 
sion of  Josiah  — §  840.  Prophetic  policy  of  acquiescence  in  Assyrian  rule 
—  §  841.  Religious  reform  favoured  by  freedom  from  Assyrian  influence 

CHAPTER   II 

The  Great  Reformation.     §  842-804.     P.  6-18 

§  842,  The  reform  of  Josiah  in  spirit  and  purpose  —  §  843.  Its  chief 
leaders  — §  844.  Little  told  us  of  antecedent  movements  or  of  popular 
feeling  — §  845.  How  the  party  of  reform  regained  power— §846.  The 
finding  of  the  "book  .,f  direction"- §  847.  What  this  book  was,  and 
how  it  was  found  — §  848.  Its  probable  history -§  84!).  The  mandate  of 
the  book  and  its  effect  on  .Josiah  — §  8.-,0.  A  commission  of  inciuiry  — 
§  851.  Resort  to  a  prophetess— §  8r)2.  A  convocation  and  covenant  — 
§  853.  Specific  objects  of  the  reform  — §  854.  ruspiritual  woi-ship  of 
Jehovah  — §  855.  Worship  of  old  Canaanltic  deities  — §  856.  Assyrian 
(Habylonian)  cults  — §  857.  Immoralities  fostered  by  impure  religions  — 
§  858.  Popular  superstitions  ;  divination  supp'anted  by  the  word  of 
prophecy  —  §  859.  A  reformation  of  morals  invr  ^ved  in  that  of  religion  — 
§  860.  Abolition  of  local  shrines,  and  its  moti-e- §  861.  The  centraliza- 
tion of  worship  in  Jerusalem  — g  862.  Trai  sferenue  and  transformation 
of  the  feasts  — §  863.  Levitical  priests -•§  864.  Widening  out  of  our 
inquiry 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  III 

Deuteronomy  and  Hebrew  Literature.     §  865-945.     P.  19-80 

§  805.  Importance  of  Deuteronomy  in  the  literature  of  Israel  — 
§  866.  Vantage-ground  for  a  survey  of  earlier  literary  history  — 
§  807.  Salient  points  of  literary  progress  —  §  868.  Difficulties  of  tracing 
the  history  of  Hebrew  literature  —  §  809.  Principles  and  facts  to  be 
kept  in  view  —  §  870.  Characteristics  uf  Old  Testament  composition  — 
§  871.  Conditions  of  its  rise  and  grov/th  —  §  872.  Acquisition  by  the 
Hebrews  of  the  art  of  writing  —  §  873.  Egypt  probably  not  the  source 
of  the  Phoenician  alphabet —  §  874.  Presumption  in  favour  of  Mesopotamia- 

—  §  875.  Evidence  of  invention  by  Arama;ans  —  §  870.  PresumiJtion  of 
a  Babylonian  basis  and  material  —  §  877.  Whence  and  when  did  the 
Hebrews  acquire  the  art  of  writing  ?  —  §  878.  Writing  universal  among 
early  Semiten  —  §  879.  Testimony  of  Jud.  v.  —  §  880.  Israel  before  Moses 
partook  of  the  culture  of  Canaan  —  §  881.  Literary  bearings  of  the  ques- 
tion only  indirect  —  §  882.  For  what  purposes  writing  was  employed 
successively  —  §883.  Periods  of  Hebrew  literature  up  to  the  Exile  — 
§  884.  Distinction  in  modes  of  origination  —  §  885.  Earliest  stories  of 
Genesis  —  §  880.  Distinction  of  motives  in  their  composition  —  §  887.  How 
they  came  to  be  preserved  —  §  888.  Poetic  national  memorials  easily 
remembered  —  §  889.   The  Song  of  Lamech  —  §  890.   The  Song  of  Miriam 

—  §891.  The  desert  journey  and  the  Mosaic  legislation  —  §892.  The 
Decalogue  —  §  893.  No  surviving  literature  of  the  desert  wanderings  — 
§894.  "Book  of  the  wars  of  Jehovah  "  —  §  895.  Other  Pentateuchal 
poems  of  later  origin  —  §896,  Fragment  of  the  "Book  of  Jashar"  — 
§  897.  The  Song  of  Deborah  —  §  898.  Lyric  tradition  maintained :  David's 
lament  over  Saul  and  Jonathan  —  §  899.  Collections  begun  for  an  inter- 
ested community  —  §  900.  Effect  of  national  unity  —  §  901.  Influence  of 
professional  scribes  —  §  902.  Motives  and  themes  of  new  compositions  — 
§  903.  Origin  of  literary  interest  in  the  fates  of  individuals  —  §  904.  Solo- 
mon's reign  more  favourable  to  collection  than  David's  —  §  905.  The 
"Blessing  of  Jacob"  —  §  900.  Compilation  of  the  two  oldest  poetical 
books — §  907.  The  reign  of  Solomon  the  end  of  a  period  —  §  908.  Re- 
maining quotations  in  the  earlier  literature  —  §909.  Religious  poems 
ascribed  to  David  —  §910.  What  sort  of  "proverbs"  are  appropriate 
to  Solomon — §  911.  Absence  of  the  ethical  and  spiritual  in  this  early 
period  —  §  912.  General  characteristics  of  its  literature  —  §  913.  Its  vital 
and  potential  element  —  §  914.  Next  period  marked  by  the  division  of 
the  kingdom  —  §  915.    In  how  far  the  Hebrew  literature  was  "  national " 

—  §  910.  Inference  from  the  general  facts  —  §  917.  The  heroic  narrative 
of  Judges  —  §918.  Period  of  "heroic  prose"  and  its  conditions  — 
§  919.  Narratives  of  Saul  and  David  — §  920.  First  "Book  of  the  Cove- 
nant "  —  §  921.  Earlier  and  later  sections  of  the  book — §  922.   The  non- 


5 

I 


i 


-1 


■I 
■■■ 


CONTENTS 


XI 


:; 


J 


i 


:■ 


practical  portions  the  later  —  §923.  Character  of  the  "prophetic  his- 
tories," J  and  E — §  924.  The  scope  and  purpose  of  these  works  — 
§  925.  Summary  of  the  contents  of  J  and  J  E  —  §  926.  The  principal 
contents  of  E  —  §  927.  Characteristics  of  J  —  §  928.  Characteristics  of  E. 
—  §  929.  Both  J  and  E  composite  worlds  —  §  930.  E  composed  in  north- 
ern Israel,  probably  about  770  u.c.  — §  931.  J  written  in  the  kingdom  of 
Jiulah  —  §  9;!2.  Possibly  near  the  close  of  the  eiyiith  century  it.c.  — 
§  933.  The  motives  of  its  composition  —  §  9:54.  Tlie  compilers  compared 
with  the  prophets  —  §  935.  Succeeding  literary  productions  —  §  9.30.  Re- 
lation of  written  prophecy  to  the  earlier  literature  —  §937.  Unknown 
colleagues  and  helpers  of  the  prophets  —  §  9;!8.  Prophetic  writing  .shows 
the  oratorical  style  —  §  939.  The  manner  of  Amos  implies  earlier  pro- 
phetic writing  —  §940.  Occasions  and  effects  of  public  speaking  — 
§  941.  Need  of  a  new  and  living  word  during  the  Assyrian  period  — 
§  942.  Prophetic  literature  held  the  field  alone  for  a  whole  century  — 
§  943.  Progress  from  the  historians,  through  the  earlier  prophets,  to 
Deuteronomy  —  §  944.  Decisive  practical  advance  made  by  the  Deute- 
ronomist — §  946.  Close  organic  association  of  J  E  and  Deuteronomy 


CHAPTER  IV 


How 


Religion  and  Morals.     §  940-1018.     P.  81-125 

§  946.  Religion  as  a  main  factor  in  the  moral  history  of  Israel  — 
§  947.  Estimate  of  the  morality  of  the  individual  in  earlier  times  — 
§  948.  Conditions  of  patriarchal  morality  —  §  949.  Chisses  of  moral  acts 

—  §  950.   How  the  will  of  the  community  determined  the  moral  standard 

—  §  951.  Obedience  to  the  claims  of  the  deities  —  §  952.  Reliability  of 
our  sources  of  information  —  §  953.  Deceit  in  primitive  life  —  §  954.  Com- 
parison with  other  virtues  —  §  955.  The  record  of  patriarchal  f raudulency 

—  §  9.j0.  Relations  of  the  sexes — §  957.  Violations  of  chastity  — §  958.  Al- 
truistic virtues  —  §  959.  Generosity  and  magnanimity  —  §  900.  Joseph's 
character  in  connection  with  his  history  —  §  901.  Distinctive  traits  of 
the  patriarchs  —  §  962.  Moral  quality  of  their  adherence  to  Jehovah  — 
§  963.  Heroic  and  semi-barbarous  virtues  oi  the  age  of  the  judges  — 
§  904.  Treachery  and  tribalism  — §  !K)5.  Prevalent  unchastity  —  §  900.  In- 
fluences for  and  against  the  altruistic  virtues  —  §  907.  The  rise  of  the 
kingdom  distinguished  by  patriotism  —  §  908.  Potential  value  of  the  cen- 
tral sanctuary  —  §  969.  Personal  prowess  and  self-devotion  among  the 
chiefs  —  §  970.  Veracity  still  unfashionable  —  §  971.  Sexual  irregularities 

—  §972.  Generosity  varied  by  cruelty  and  wrongs  —  §  97.3.  Explanation 
of  tribal  morality  —  §  974.  The  need  of  public  teachers  supi)lied  by  the 
prophets  —  §975.  Moral  censorship  a  secondary  matter  in  the  ministry 
of  Samuel  —  §976.  The  significance  of  Samuel  in  Old  Testament  morals 

—  §  977.  Advance  shown  in  Nathan's  rebuke  of  David  —  §  978.  Prophecy 
in  abeyance  under  Solomon  —  §  97U.    Prophetic  encouragement  of  the 


xu 


CONTEXTS 


revolt  of  the  "  Ten  Tribes  "—  §  980.  iMoral  effect  of  the  dread  of  Jehovah 

—  §  981.  The  moral  crisis  under  Aliab  —  §  982.  How  the  royal  crime 
awakened  the  popular  conscience  —  §  983.  Prophetic  morality  as  repre- 
senting a  cau.se  and  a  party  —  §  984.  Conditions  of  moral  progress  — 
§  98ij.  Advance  in  the  conception  of  the  character  of  Jehoviih  —  §  98(5.  In- 
telligent inward  rejection  of  idolatry  and  its  accompaniments  —  §  987.  A 
new  conception  of  the  religions  connnunity  —  §  988.  Nece.ssity  of  a  .self-.sac- 
rificing  struggle  —  §  989.  Moral  results  of  national  unification — §  990.  In- 
dustrial and  connnercial  progre.ss  —  §  991.  Effects  of  the  schism  between 
rich  and  poor  —  §  992.  Concentration  of  national  worship  —  §  993.  A 
system  of  moral  education  —  §  994.  Moral  and  spiritual  contrasts  in  the 
closing  days  of  northern  Israel  —  §  995.  The  party  of  Jehovah  in  Judah  ; 
Isaiah's  disciples  —  §  990.  Helpers  and  comrades  of  the  prophets  in  the 
whole  course  of  prophecy  —  §  997.  Periods  of  moral  and  religious  history 
from  Ilezekiah  to  the  death  of  Josiah  —  §  998.  Germinal  ideas  and  prog- 
ress in  the  time  of  Isaiah  and  Micah  —  §  999.  First  necessary  limitation  : 
the  localizing  of  Jehovah's  influence  and  interest  —  §  1000.  Second  limita- 
tion :  corporate  or  representative  character  of  moral  responsibility  — 
§  1001.  Third  limitation  :  lack  of  proportion  in  estimating  moral  qualities 

—  §  1002.  Significance  of  the  reforming  period  of  Ilezekiah  —  §  1003.  The 
third  period,  the  time  of  Manasseh,  a  preparation  for  the  reforming  pe- 
riod of  Josiah  —  §  1004.  This  third  period  determined  the  final  issues  — 
§  1005.  Parallel  with  earlier  seasons  of  degeneracy  —  §  1000.  Earnestness 
of  the  worshippers  of  Molech  —  §  1007.  Reaction  in  favour  of  Jehovah  — 
§  1008.  Effect  of  religious  and  moral  antagonisms  on  belief  and  doctrine 

—  §  1009.  Nature  and  consequences  of  the  conception  of  the  holiness  of 
Jehovah  —  §  1010.  Results  in  the  development  of  moral  individuality  — 
§  1011.  The  ideas  of  sin  and  forgiveness  —  §  1012.  Preparation  for  Deu- 
teronomy and  the  Reformation  —  §  1013.  Moral  influence  of  the  priest- 
hood—§  1014.  The  priests  as  securing  divine  favour  for  their  clients  — 
§  1015.  Priests  in  Israel  as  intercessors  and  counsellors  —  §  1016.  Moral 
helpfulness  of  the  priestly  profession  —  §  1017.  Reforming  and  literary 
work  of  the  priests  —  §  1018.  Moral  and  religious  influence  of  men 
unknown  to  history 


CHAPTER   V 


The  Reformation  in  Effect.    §  1019-1026.     P.  126-131 


§  1019.  Reformsaccomplishedduring  the  lifetime  of  Josiah  —  §1020.  Ob- 
stacles hard  to  overcome  —  §  1021.  Inherent  ditticulties  —  §  1022,  The  cor- 
porate unity  of  the  nation  the  strength  and  weakness  of  the  movement  — 
§  1023.  The  ethical  and  the  ritual  element  compared  —  §  1024.  Deuteron- 
omy and  the  truer  national  life  —  §  1025.  Its  preparation  for  individualism 
—  §  1020.  Effect  of  the  prescribed  ritual  system 


CONTENTS 


xiil 


CHAPTER  VI 
The  Egyptians  in  Palestine.    §  1027-1044.    T.  132-142 

§  1027.  Military  strength  of  Josi.ih's  admlnlstratiim  —  §  1028.  Fate- 
ful re.sults  of  a  warlike  movement  —  §  1029.  Change  in  Egyptian  iiolioy 
—  §  10.30.  The  new  dynasty  of  SaLs— §  10.31.  Eiiterpri.so  of  I'hanioli 
Necho  —  §  1032.  Kevival  of  foreign  ambitions  —  §  1033.  Prospects  of 
an  invasion  of  Western  Asia  —  §  1034.  Josiali  and  Neolio  at  Megiddo  — 
§  1035.  The  mourning  for  Josiali  —  §  lOJKi.  Inriuence  of  his  oath  to  As- 
syria—  §  1037.  Explanation  of  his  antipathy  towards  Egypt  —  §  1038.  The 
Egyptian  occupation  —  §  1030.  Accession  and  captivity  of  Jehoahaz  — 
§  1040.  Eliakini  (Jchoiakim)  the  vassal  of  Egypt  —  §  1041.  Character 
of  the  Egyptian  regime  —  §  1042.  The  Babylonian  Nabopolassar  — 
§  1043.  The  Egyptians  succumb  to  young  Nebuchadrezzar  —  §  1044,  Judah 
a  dependency  of  Babylon 


Book  X 

HEBREWS  AND   CIIALD.EANS 

CHAPTER  I 

Babylon  and  Nebcchaurezzar.     §  1045-1004.     P.  143-159 

§  1045.  Scope  and  duration  of  Babylonian  influence  —  §  1046.  Interest 
of  the  .story  of  the  Chakheans  —  §  1047.  K^.sume  of  their  earlier  history 
—  §  1048.  Their  devotion  to  Babylon  —  §  1040.  They  combine  As.syrian 
and  Babylonian  types  of  character  —  §  1050.  They  made  few  great 
changes  in  the  Semitic  world  —  §1051.  Nabopola.s.sar  and  his  plans  — 
§  1052.  Character  of  Nebuchadrezzar  —  §  1053.  His  religious  spirit  — 
§  1054.  Purity  of  his  religious  feeling  —  §  1055.  Point  of  view  in  our 
study  of  Babylon  —  §  105(5.  Greatness  of  the  city  —  §  1057.  Description  by 
Bcrossus — §1058.  Situation  and  defences  of  Babylon  —  §1050.  Streets, 
bridges,  quays,  and  river  traffic  —  §  1000.  The  temple  of  Merodaeh  and 
its  belongings  — §  1001.  The  tower  of  Babel  — §  1002.  The  new  royal 
palace  —  §  1003.  Borsippa,  its  temple  of  Nebo  and  its  tower — §  1064.  Life 
of  the  people  of  Babylon 

CHAPTER   II 


Silences  of  Prophecy  till  the  Chald.ean  Epoch.     §  1066-1074. 

P.  100-106 

§  1065.    Prophetic  silence  during  the  Deuteronomic  period  —  §  1066. 
Why  the  work  of  the  preaching  prophets  was  non-official  —  §  1067.   Jere- 


«m 


T1V 


CONTENTS 


niiah  takes  no  part  in  the  measures  of  reform  —  §  1068.  His  indifference 
towards  ritual  and  ceremony  —  S  1069.  He  had  no  official  dealhins  with 
Josiah  —  §  1070.  The  propliets  stood  in  advance  of  as  well  as  aloof  from 
the  king  and  his  officers  —  §  1071.   Symptoms  of  this  radical  separation 

—  §  1072.  Why  prophecy  concerned  itself  with  intern.ational  affairs  — 
§  1073.   Were  prophets  or  prie.sts  concerned  in  Josiah's  fatal  campaign  ? 

—  §  1074.    The  Chaldiean  era  and  public  prophecy 


CHAPTER   III 
Judah's  Vassalage  to  the  CnALDi*:ANs.     §  1075-1081.     P.  167-171 

§  1075.  Process  of  subjection  of  Syria  and  Palestine  —  §  1076.  Atti- 
tude of  Nebuchadrezzar  towards  Judah  —  §  1077.  Expected  help  from 
Egypt  an  encouragement  to  revolt  —  §  1078.  Repression  of  the  rebe'lion 
and  death  of  Jehoiakim  —  §  107!).  Young  Jehoiachin  and  his  surrender  — 
§  1080.  Treatment  of  the  conquered  people  —  §  1081.  Fate  of  the  king 
and  the  exiles  of  the  first  captivity 


CHAPTER   IV 

Jekemiah  and  the  Coming  of  the  Chald^eans.     §  1082-1127 

P.  172-209 

§  1082.  Jeremiah  almost  wholly  a  prophet  of  the  Chaldsean  period  — 
§  1083.  Date  of  his  first  great  discourse,  (iOu  n.c.  —  §  1084.  His  previous 
gilence  and  his  f  idden  prominence  —  §  1085.  Political  occasions  of  the 
opening  prophecies  —  §  1086.  Composition  and  occasion  of  the  first  dis- 
course—  §  1087.  National  trouble  after  the  death  of  Josiah — §  1088.  Second 
condition:  conflict  at  Carchemish  —  §  1089.   The  battle-song  of  Jeremiah 

—  §  1090.  His  forecast  of  the  Chaldipans  — §  1091.  Third  condition  :  the 
expected  invasion  from  the  north  —  §  1092.  Dramatic  scene  at  its  an- 
nouncement—  §  1093.  Jeremiah  and  his  professional  rivals  —  §  1094. 
Modes  of  false  and  true  worship  —  §  1095.  Crime  and  punislnnent  of 
Tophet  —  §  1096.  Exile  and  outlawry  of  souls  —  §  1097.  Falsifying  reve- 
lation—  §1098.  The  prophet's  mood  of  grief  and  vexation  —  §  1099.  The 
Old  Testament  Confession  —  §  1100.  Punishment  for  the  broken  Cove- 
nant—  §  1101.  Attempt  at  assassination  —  §  1102.  Lesson  from  the 
potter's  art — §1103.  Attitude  of  the  priests  and  projjlK'ts  —  §1104. 
Mutual  hostility  and  Jeremiah's  maledictions — §  1105.  Aggravations  of 
his  wrongs  —  §  1106.  His  blame  for  loyalty  to  Jehovah  —  §  1107.  The 
problem  of  his  suffering  —  §  1108.   Jerenuah  the  representative  of  a  class 

—  §  1109.  The  supreme  trial  prepares  him  for  conflict — §  1110.  The 
potter's  vessel  and  the  valley  of  Tophet  —  §  1111.  Official  punishment  of 
Jeremiah  —  §  1112.  His  inward  ccmflict  and  victory  —  §  1113.  A'indica- 
tion  of  his  attitude  toward  the  Chaldieans  —  §  1114.    Moral  necessity  of 


CONTENTS 


XV 


national  chastisement  —  §  1115.  lie  plainly  announces  Nebuchadrezzar 
—  §1110.  Jeremiah  interdicted;  his  inissajje  committed  to  writinj;  — 
§  1117.  Literary  form  of  the  discourses  —  §  1118.  Time  ivnd  place  of 
liaruch's  public  rtadinj;  —  §  1110.  Con.seciuences  of  the  lecture  —  §  11*20. 
Hurning  of  the  roll  by  Jehoiakim — §  1121.  Execution  of  Jertiiiiali 
threatened  —  §  1122.  Character  and  policy  of  Jehoiakim  —  §  1123.  The 
attitude  of  the  politicians  —  §1124.  Interval  of  political  (luicsccncc  — 
§  1125.  Jeremiah  and  his  rivals  during  the  greiit  drought  —  S  112»i.  The 
prophet  comforted  and  encouraged  —  §  1127.  Jeremiah's  vicarious  min- 
istry of  suffering 

CHAPTER  V 

Habakkuk  and  the  Chai.d.eans.     §  1128-1139.     P.  210-219 

§  1128.  Characteristics  of  the  book  of  Habakkuk  — §  1129.  Parallel 
with  Nahum  — §  1 130.  The  Chaldajans  as  scourges  of  Israel  —  §  1131.  Why 
are  the  Chaldieans  not  themselves  punished?  —  §  1132.  The  prophet  on 
his  watch-tower — §  1133.  His  answer  of  faith  triumphant  —  §  1134.  Fu- 
.tility  of  the  Chaldsean  regime  —  §  1135.  The  moral  cii.se  again.st  thcni 
and  their  merited  doom  —  §  1136.  Meaning  of  Hab.  iii.  —  §  1137.  Date 
of  the  prophecy  —  §  1138.  Progress  from  Zephaniah  to  Habakkuk  — 
§  1 139.   Habakkuk  and  Jeremiah 


CHAPTER  VI 

Jeremiah  and  the  First  Rebellion.     §  1140-1147,     P.  220-220 

§  1140.  Prophecies  of  the  first  rebellion  — §  1141.  The  Rechabitr.s  — 
§  1142.  Lessons  for  Israel  —  §  114.3.  Prophetic  laments  over  Jehoiacliin 
—  §  1144.  Reminiscence  of  his  fate  —  §  114o.  Harshness  of  the  laiiguajie 
explained  —  §  1146.  Misfortune  as  a  measure  of  sin  —  §  1147.  The  actual 
fate  of  Jehoiachin 


CHAPTER   VII 

Jeremiah  and  Jl'dah's  Last  Probation.     §  1148-1173.     P.  227-244 

§  1148.  Zedekiah  as  a  Chald>ean  vassal  — §  1149.  Situation  of  Jeremiah 
—  S  1150.  An  epoch  in  his  public  and  literary  career  —  §  1151.  Zcdckiali, 
Ills  ill-fortune  and  his  weaknesses  —  §  1152.  His  people  after  the  dcixirta- 
tion  —  §  11.53.  Effect  of  the  changes  of  fortune  —  §  1154.  Their  troubles 
as  payers  of  tribute  —  §  1155.  Their  religious  sentiments  —  §  1156.  Effect 
upon  their  political  views  —  §  1157.  Movement  towards  revolt;  how  met 
by  Jeremiah  —  §1158.  Encouragement  to  sedition  by  the  prophet  Hana- 
niah  —  §  1159.  Spectacular  close  of  the  controversy  —  §  1160.   The  fate 


XVI 


CONTENTS 


ami  case  of  Ilananiah  —  §  1101.  Counsel  for  Zedckiah  —  §  11(52.  Indict- 
ment of  the  rival  school  of  prophets  —  §  IIO.'J.  Oracle  concerning  Kdoni  — 
§  ll(i4.  The  prophet's  care  for  the  exiles  in  Babylon  —  §  1105.  Trophetic 
hopes  centred  in  them  —  §  1K30.  I'arable  of  the  tigs  —  §  1107.  Embassy 
from  Zedekiah  to  Babylon — §  1108.  Jeremiah's  letter  to  the  captives  — 
§  11(»(>.  liis  opiionents  in  Babylonia  —  §  1170.  The  intrigue  of  Shemaiali 
and  its  failure  —  §  1171.  Zedekiali's  journey  to  Babylon  and  renewed 
submission  —  §  1172.  The  message  of  Babylon's  final  doom  —  §  1173.  End 
of  Jeremiah's  rule  a^  Babylonian  prophet 


CHAPTER  VIII 

EzEKiEL  IN  Exile  and  the  IIo.me-land.     §  1174-1206.     P.  245-207 

§  1174.  Ezekiel  the  prie.st-prophet  —  §  1175.  His  style  and  teaching  — 
§  1170.  His  interest  in  the  home-land  and  its  people  —  §  1177.  Limitatiims 
of  his  prophecies  relating  to  them  —  §  1178.  Siege  of  Jerusalem  symboli- 
cally portrayed  —  §  1179.  Horrors  of  the  siege  .symbolized  —  §  1180.  Rep- 
resentation of  the  subsequent  fate  of  the  people  with  bitter  denunciations 

—  §  1181.  Effect  of  Ezekiel's  visions  on  the  leaders  of  the  people  — 
§1182.  Vision  of  Jehovah's  glory  and  the  contra.sted  "jealousy-image" 

—  §  1183.  Vision  of  primitive  beast- worship  —  §  1184.  The  weeping  for 
Tammuz  —  §1185.  Illustration  from  Babylonian  literature  —  §  1180.  Ex- 
planation of  the  myth  —  §  1187.  Its  religious  motive  —  §  1188.  An  image 
of  a  world-wide  tragedy  — §  1189.  Its  moral  danger — §  1190.  Historical 
dlustration  of  the  evil  —  §  1191.  A  vision  of  sun-wor.ship  in  the  temple  — 
§  1192.  The  saving  mark  on  the  forehead  —  §  1193.  Vision  of  the  firing 
of  Jerusalem  —  §  1194.  The  doom  of  the  plotters  of  sedition — §  1195.  The 
re.storation  and  the  change  of  heart  —  §  1196.  The  city  as  forsaken  by 
Jehovah  —  §  1197.  A  vision  of  sudden  flight  —  §  1198.  Current  fallacies 
due  to  false  prophecy  —  §  1199.  Evil  work  of  false  prophetes.ses  — 
§  1200.  The  people  themselves  ready  to  be  deceived  —  §  1201.  They  are 
not  to  be  saved  by  the  righteousness  of  others  —  §  1202.  Parables  of  the 
character  and  fate  of  Israel  —  §  1203,  Ezekiel's  preaching  intermitted  — 
§  1204.  The  responsibility  of  the  individual  —  §  1205.  How  the  exiles 
reasoned  about  their  fate  and  its  cause  —  §  1206.  Discourse  to  the  depu- 
tation of  elders 


CHAPTER  IX 

Rebellion,  Siege,  and  Fall  of  Jeuusalem.    §  1207-1239.    P.  268-295 

§  1207.  Change  of  rulers  in  Egypt— §  1208.  Egypt  encourages  revolt 
in  Judah  —  §  1209.  Allegory  of  the  two  eagles,  the  cedar,  and  the  vine  — 
§  1210.  Nebuchadrezzar  consulting  the  oracles  —  §  1211.  The  mode  of 
divination  —  §1212.  Parable  of  Judah's  relations  with  foreign  peoples  — 
§  1213.   Expedition  against  Palestine  —  §  1214.   Process  of  the  siege  of 


(•(JXTKNTS 


xvii 


Jerusalem  —  §  1215.  Zedekiah's  appeal  to  Jeremiah  —  §  liilO.  Tlie  dodm 
of  Zedekiah  and  its  niitigtatiou  —  §  1217.  Treatment  of  the  slaves  in  Jeru- 
salem—  §  1218.  Their  temporary  relea.se  and  their  reenslavement  — 
§  12H>.  Jeremiah's  indictment  of  tlie  offenders  —  §  1220.  Jeremiaii  pre- 
dicts the  return  of  tlie  Chaldiuans —  §  1221.  Arrest  and  imprisonment  of 
Jeremiah  —  §  1222.  Retreat  of  the  Egyptians  and  resumption  of  the  siege 

—  §  122;j.  Mistaken  heroism  of  tlie  defenders — §  1224.  Interview  with 
Zedekiali ;  Jeremiaii  in  the  royal  courtyard  —  §  122;').  Property  in  Ana- 
thoth  transferred  to  Jeremiah  —  §  1220.  The  propliet's  hope  of  future 
restoration  —  §  1227.  He  is  tlirust  into  an  empty  ci.steni  —  §  122M.  The  king 
persuatled  to  rescue  him  —  §  1229.  L.ast  interview  between  Zedekiali  and 
Jeremiah  —  §1230.  Kndof  the  siege  :  tlie  breacii  in  the  wall  —  §  12:11.  Flight 
and  capture  of  the  royal  party — §  12.'12.  Treatment  of  the  coiKjuered  city 

—  §  12;j.3.  Methods  of  devastation —ij  12:54.  Deportation  of  citizens  — 
§  12:15.  Fate  of  the  king  and  the  leaders  of  the  revolt  —  §  12;J(5.  The  siego 
of  Jerusalem  in  Hebrew  literature  —  §  12:17.  Authorship  of  the  Lamenta- 
tions—  §  12:38.  The  poems  set  forth  historical  situations;  do  not  relate 
the  facts  of  history  —  §  1239.  Kindred  literature  probably  of  a  later  time 

CHAPTER   X 
The  Remnant  in  Palestine  and  Eovi't.    §  1240-1262.    P.  290-312 

§  1240.  Condition  of  the  remnant  of  Judah  in  Palestine  — §  1241.  The 
Babylonian  policy  towards  them  —  §  1242.  tiedaliah,  Jeremiah,  and  tlio 
captain  of  the  guard  —  §  124:J.  Formation  of  the  new  settlement  —  §  1244. 
Jeremiah  and  the  services  of  religion  —  §  1246.  Ishmael  the  traitor  — 
§  1246.  His  murder  of  Gedaliah  — §  1247.  His  other  atrocities  — §  1248. 
Surprise  and  escape  of  Ishmael  —  §  1249.  Panic  and  .southward  flight  of 
the  Judaite  chiefs  —  §  1250.  Deportation  of  the  remainder  —  §  1251,  The 
desolation  of  Judah  —  §1252.  Jeremiah  resorted  to  as  coun.sellor  — 
§  12.')3.  He  gives  an  oracle  dissuading  from  flight  to  P^gypt  —  §  1254.  Hi.s 
counsel  disregarded  :  the  march  to  Egypt  —  §  1255.  Symbolical  action  of 
the  overthrow  of  Pharaoh  Hophra  —  §  1256.  Worship  of  the  "Queen  of 
Heaven"  —  §  1257.  Jeremiah's  last  denunciation  and  his  martyrdom  — 
§  1258.  His  prophetic  genius  and  its  decisive  test  —  §  1259.  Hlustratiou 
from  modern  conditions  —  §  1260.  The  prophet's  vision  and  the  national 
fiction  —  §  1261.  Our  modern  prophets  and  our  national  fiction  — §  12(52. 
Meaning  of  Jeremiah's  life  for  humanity 


CHAPTER   XI 

The  Exile  as  an  Erocn.     §  1263-1267.     P.  31.3-317 

§  1263.  Paradox  of  the  results  of  the  exile  and  its  antecedents  — 
§  1264.  Problem  of  causes  and  effects  —  §  1265.  Questions  suggested  by 
the  Babylonian  residence — §  1266.  Need  of  a  particular  inquiry^ 
§  1267.    Historical  clearness  promoted  by  the  exile 


xviii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  XII 

Tub  Depohtations.     §  1208-1271.     P.  318-320 

§  1268.  Preponderance  of  the  deportation  of  607  b.c.  —  §  1269.  In- 
ferences—  §  1270.  Various  cliisHcs  of  tlie  deported  people  —  §  1271.  Con- 
dition of  the  exiles  on  the  journey 

CHAPTER  XIII 
The  Hebrew  Settlement  in  Bahylonia.     §  1272-1289.     P.  321-334 

§  1272.  Region  of  the  principal  settlement  —  §  1273.  Local  distribu- 
tion of  the  exiles —  §  1274.  How  their  employments  were  determuied  — 
§  1275.  Their  antecedent  occupations  in  Palestine  —  §  1276.  Agriculture, 
trade,  industrial  and  other  arts  in  Babylonia  —  §  1277.  A  time  of  oppor- 
tunity for  settlers  —  §  1278.  Social  and  business  conditions;  status  and 
treatment  of  slaves  —  §  1279.  Classification  of  Babylonian  slaves  — 
§  1280.  Distinctive  advantages  afforded  by  the  Babylonian  system  — 
§  1281.  Freedom  of  movement  possible  to  the  higher  order  of  slaves 
—  §  1282.  The  conditions  summed  up  —  §  1283.  Iinportaiice  of  agricul- 
ture in  Babylonian  life  —  §  1284.  The  country  round  about  Nippur  — 
§  1285.  Effect  of  the  rise  of  Babylon  and  of  the  Kasshite  dynasty  — 
§  1286,  Later  vicissitudes;  disfavour  of  Nebuchadrezzar  —  §  1287.  The 
business  functions  of  the  temple  and  the  priests  —  §  1288.  Source  of  their 
influence  upon  the  progress  of  the  country  —  §  1289.  Nebuchadrezzar's 
displeasure  towards  them  connected  with  the  settlement  of  the  Hebrews 


CHAPTER   XIV 

Employments  of  the  Exiles  in  Babylonia.     §  1290-1306 

P.  3.35-349 

§  1290.  What  water  was  to  Babylonia  —  §  1291.  System  of  canaliza- 
tion east  of  the  Euphrates  —  §  1292.  Condition  of  the  region  enjoying 
the  water  supply — §  1293.  How  the  Euphrates  itself  was  affected  with 
its  affluents:  modern  illustration  —  §  1294.  Recent  illustratiim  east  of 
the  Euphrates — §  1295.  The  general  condition  of  the  country  character- 
ized—  §1290.  The  exiles  to  be  restorers  and  repairers  of  wastes  and 
ruins  —  §  1297.  Agreement  with  the  policy  of  Nebuchadrezzar  —  §  1298. 
Sunnnary  of  the  situation  —  §  1299.  The  canals  that  gave  the  water 
supi)ly  —  §  1.300.  Modern  canals  of  this  region  —  §  1.301.  Occupations  of 
the  colonists  after  the  settlement  —  §  1.302.  Extension  of  their  avocations 
—  §  1.30.3.  Improvement  of  the  land:  its  productions  —  §  1304.  Need  of 
vigilance  against  constant  dangers  —  §  1305.  Uses  of  the  Kebar  for  navi- 
gation —  §  1.306.   What  became  of  the  Hebrew  artisans  ? 


CONTENTS 


XIX 


CIIArTER   XV 

The  Exiles  as  a  Community.     §  i;J07-1312.     P.  SoO-'JGS 

§  1.107.  Relations  with  the  central  Rovorninent  —  §  1;J08,  The  kinji's 
interest  in  the  principal  c()h)ny  —  §  i;5oi>.  Soliilarity  of  the  exiles  — 
§  l;U().  Simple  orpuiization  of  the  colonies  —  §  l.'Hl.  Administration  of 
family  heads  and  elders  —  §  11)12.    Leadership  and  general  oversight 


Book  XI 

HEBREWS,  CHALD/EANS,  AND  PERSIANS 

CHAPTER   I 

Morals  and  Religion  of  Israel  in  Exile.     §  1313-134!).     P.  354-379 

§  1313.  The  true  Israel  revealed  and  on  trial  in  captivity —  §  1314.  The 
physical  environment  a.s  affecting  mind  and  temperament  —  §  1315.  New 
cimceptions  of  life  and  history  awakened  —  §  1310.  A  change  of  polit- 
ical ideals  fostered  —  §  1317.  General  conditions  of  .social  progre.ss  — 
§  1318.  Great  determining  moral  factors — §  131U.  Importance  of  business 
relations  —  §  1320.  Effect  of  business  on  character — §1321.  Careful  pro- 
tection of  business  interests  in  Babylonia  —  §  1322.  Hebrew  business 
antecedents  and  principles  —  §  1323,  Babylonian  rules  and  procedure — 
§  1324.  Dealings  in  agricultural  business — §  1325.  The  moral  discipline 
for  Israel  —  §  1320.    How  slaves  and  servants  could  better  their  condition 

—  §  1327.  Qualifying  observatiims  —  §  1328.  Limitations  of  the  moral 
influence  —  §  1320.   Paramount  importance  of  religious  and  moral  issues 

—  §  13.30.   Danger  and  evil  of  unchastity  —  §  1331.  A  one-sided  re.strictiim 

—  §  1.332.  Encouragement  of  .sacred  prostitution  —  §  13;)3.  How  the  He- 
brews regarded  it  —  §  13:54.  Their  repugnance  to  idolatry  in  an  alien  land 

—  §1335.  Better  opportunities  for  the  prophetic  leaching  —  §  1330.  l{e- 
ligious  dilemma:  question  as  to  the  power  of  Jehovah  — §  13;'i7.  Could 
Jehovah  actually  be  and  have  control  in  Babylonia?  —  §  1338.  Effect  on 
prevailing  conceptions  of  (iod — §  13.")0.  Earlier  progress  in  religious  indi- 
vidualism —  §  1340.  Effect  of  the  scattering  of  the  nation  —  §  1341.  Jere- 
miah's conception  of  the  new  Covenant  —  §  1342.  Ezekiel's  deniiil  of 
imputed  guilt — §  1343.  Ezekiel  as  continuing  the  spirit  of  Deuteron- 
omy—  §  1344.  Summary  of  Ezekiel's  later  teaching  —  §  1345.  The  ))er- 
maneiit  elements  of  the  religion  of  the  exiles  —  §  1.346.  The  Sabbath  as 
a  Babylonian  institution  —  §  l.")47.   Advantage  of  a  stated  day  of  rest 

—  §  1.348.  Mourning  and  .self-abasement  of  the  religious  meetings  — 
§  1349.    Effect  of  the  sifting  and  purifying  process 


XX 


CONTKNTS 


ClIAPTEU   II 

Hkurew  Litkrature  of  tiik  Kxile.     §  1350-1303.    P.  380-388 

§  13r)0.  Internal  caiisea  of  the  literary  activity  of  the  Exile  — 
§  1361.  Outward  conditions,  t'specialiy  Babylonian  influences — §  b'JiVi.  Ef- 
fect upon  form  and  style  —  §  i3f'»;{.  Examples  in  post-exilic  writers  — 
§  i;jr)4.  Increased  employment  of  symbol  and  allegory —  §  VA-'m.  Increase 
of  historical  interest  —  §  135(1.  Effect  of  Deuteronomy  in  a  one-sided  view 
of  historic  principles  —  §  1357.  The  bonks  of  Kin^H  and  the  national  cultus 

—  §  1358.   References  made  to  earlier  sources  —  §  1350   Narrative  addi- 
tions to  the  annals  of  the  kinfis  —  §  13(iO.  The  probability  of  two  revisions 

—  §  1301.  Revision  and  reshaping  of  Deuteronomy,  Judges,  and  Sanmel 

—  §  1302.  Ritualistic  work:  the  Law  of  Iluliuess  —  §  1303.  I'salm  com- 
position 


CHAPTER   III 

The  Chaldean  Dominion.     §  1305-1372.     P.  389-394 

§  1304.  General  policy  of  Nebuchadrezzar  —  §  1305.  Siege  of  Tyre  and 
campaigns  in  Egypt  —  §  1300.  Prophecies  of  Jeremiah  and  Ezekiel  con- 
cerning Egypt  —  §  1307.  Ezekiel's  discourses  on  Tyre  and  Sidon  — 
§  1308.  The  closing  .stage  of  the  Chaldaean  empire  —  §  1309.  Evil-Mero- 
dach  —  §  1370.  Neriglissar  and  his  short-lived  son  —  §  1371.  Accession 
and  character  of  Nabonidus  — §  1372.  His  policy  toward  the  provincial, 
cities 


CHAPTER   IV 

Cyrus  and  tub  Persians.     §  1373-1389.     P.  395-407 

§  1373.  The  Iranians  —  §  1374.  Iran  and  the  westward  migrations  of 
Medes  and  Persians — §  1375.  The  Iranian  communities— §  1370.  Their 
religion  —  §  1377.  Its  contrast  with  Semitism  — §  1378.  Early  hi.story  of 
the  Persian  branch  —  §  1379.  Conflict  and  compromise  of  the  Medes  and 
Lydians  —  §  1380.  Forecast  of  consequences  —  §  1381.  Cyrus  in  myth 
and  legend  —  §  1382.  Cynis  as  conqueror  of  the  Medes  —  §  1383.  He  thus 
rids  Mesopotamia  of  the  Scythians  —  §  1384.  Were  the  Scythians  then  in 
control  of  Media?  —  §  1385.  Explanation  of  the  submis-sion  of  the  Medes 
to  Cyrus  —  §  1380.  Rapid  organization  of  a  Medo-Persian  empire  — 
§  1387.  Invasion  of  Median  territory  by  Croesus  of  Lydia  — §  1388.  Con- 
quest of  his  kingdom  by  Cyrus  —  §  1389.  Annexation  of  the  Greek  colo- 
nies and  of  eastern  Iran 


M 


.t: 


CO NT K NTS 


xxi 


CIIAl'TER   V 

CvRus  Kino  op  BAiivi.uy.     §  131K)-1399.    P.  408-414 

§1390.  Happy  fortune  of  Cyru8-§  131)1.  Ilm delay  in  marohinK  upon 
Uabylon  — §  13i»2.  MiH^overnmL-nt  and  folly  „f  Nab..nidus  — §  l;!<i;!  A 
divinoconiniLssion  torlRl.t  the  wrongs.. f  the  Babvloniun.s-§  1:{1M  Ch:u"^ 
in  the  policy  of  Naboni.lus.-§  13«5.  Tiie  campaign  against  Babylon  in 
the  In.sc-nptions-§  l.m  The  connected  .story -§  1307.  Babylonia  nn,<le 
a  lersian  kingdom _§  1308.  The  native  religion  retained  and  patronized 
by  Cyrus  — §  1300,  Liberation  of  foreign  slaves  and  exiles 


CHAPTER   VI 

Prophetic  Ideal.s.     §  1400-1420.     P.  415-431 

§  1400.  Occasions  of  a  new  literary  epoch  -  §  1401.  The  Medes  and  the 
doom  of  Babylon -§  1402.  Picture  of  the  fallen  oppressor -){  I4();i    The 
Medes  in  Jer.  1.,  li._§  u,)4.  Persia  and  Media  in   Lsa.  xxi.  l^lo- 
§  1405.    Isaiah  II:   his  training  and  outlook -§   1400.    His  genius  for 
expression:  parallel  with  Vergil -§  1407.  The  prophet,  his  pupils  and 
coworkers -§  1408.   How  deliverance  .should  be  effected -§  1409    The 
vision  of  Cyrus  and  his  unknown  Leader- §  1410.  The  prophet  sees 
results  m   conditions-!)  1411.  The  prophetic  view  of   Cyrus    and   its 
implications  -  §  1412.    The   reputation   of  Cyrus  -  §  1413.    His   moral 
statesmanship -§  1414.    His  treatment  of  .subject  states-§  1415    The 
restoration  of  captives  — §  1410.    The  religion  of  Cyrus  — §  1417.  The 
unfulfilled   ideal  of   his  deeds  and  character— §  1418.  The  unfulfille<l 
vision  of  prophecy- §  1410.  Its  larger  realization-§  1420.  Regenerative 
ideas  of  prophecy 


^rrmmmmmimm 


ADDITIONAL   ABBREVIATIONS 


ATR. 

BA. 
CIS, 
DB. 
EB. 

Einl. 

HA. 

Her, 

Kosmologie 
MVG. 

Nab.  annals 
Neb. 
Nippur        : 


PCT. 
RBA. 

SBOT. 


=  R.  Smend,  Lehrhuch  der  alttcstamentlichen  BrUgionsge- 
schichte,  181)3, 

=  Beitriige  zur  Assyriologie,  edited  by  Delitzsch  and  Haupt. 

=  Corims  inscriptiomcm  Semiticarum. 

=  Dictionary  of  the  Bible,  edited  by  James  Hastings. 

=  Ennjrlopcndia  Biblica,  edited  by  T.  K,  Cheyne  and  J.  S. 
Black. 

=  C,  H.  Cornill,  Einleitung  in  das  Alte  Testament,  4th  ed., 

18(K'.,      . 

=  J.  Benzinger,  Ilebrdische  Archiiologie,  1894. 
=  Herodotus, 

=  P,  Jensen,  Kosmologie  der  Bahylonier,  1890. 
=Mittheilungen  der  vorderasiatischen  Gesellschaft. 

Annals  of  Nabonidus,  §  1382, 
=  Inscription  of  Nebuchadrezzar  II.  in  IR,  53-58. 

=  J.  P.  Peters,  Nippur,  or  Adventures  and  Explorations  on 
the  Euphrates,  2  vols.,  1897, 

=  Babylonian  Expedition  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  ; 
Cuneiform  Texts,  vol,  IX,  1898. 

=  M.  Jastrow,  Jr.,  The  lieligion  of  Babylonia  and  Assyria, 
1898. 

=  Sacred  Books  of  the  Old  Testament,  edited  by  Paul  llaupt. 


xxiii 


Book  IX 
HEBREWS  AND  EGYPTIANS 


-»oJ»Jo 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  KINGDOM   OF  JUDAH   UXDER   JOSIAH 

§  835.  The  fortunes  of  Assyria  as  the  controlling  power 
of  the  Semitic  world  have  been  followed  until  the  empire 
und  its  capital  ceased  to  exist.  We  have  also  traced  the 
slow  but  steady  revival  of  Babylonia  under  Chalda3an 
leadership  and  in  a  general  Avay  described  the  condition 
of  the  wide  region  once  subject  to  the  rule  of  Nineveh 
(§  821).  The  survey  of  our  held  was,  however,  not  quite 
complete  ;  a  special  place  is  demanded  for  the  people  of 
Israel  during  the  closing  years  of  the  Assyrian  regime. 
To  help  to  an  understanding  of  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom 
of  Judah  during  this  and  the  following  period  up  to  tlie 
Exile,  we  may  again  refer  to  the  normal  political  relations 
between  Palestine  and  the  dominant  powers  of  Western 
Asia. 

§  836.  From  the  beginning  of  recorded  liistory  until 
Alexander  the  Great  brought  tlie  forces  of  Europe  into 
play,  the  fate  of  Palestine  and  Syria  was  c()ntr(^lled  from 
tlie  banks  of  the  Tigris  or  of  the  Euplirates.  If  at  any  time 
a  change  took  place  in  the  general  situation,  it  was  brought 
about  by  the  restless  endeavours  of  Egypt  to  gain  a  footing 
m  Asia,  whenever  the  dominant  Asiatic  power  was  crippled 
B  1 


FORCES   OF   rOLITICAL   HISTORY 


Book  IX 


for  a  time  or  was  slowly  making  way  for  its  successor. 
We  may  recall  the  era  of  the  domination  of  the  separate 
states  in  old  Babylonia,  as  the  now  long-forgotten  cities  of 
the  lower  Euphrates  valley  came  each  in  turn  to  exclusive 
power.  We  next  bring  to  mind  the  political  and  intellec- 
tual sujjremacy  of  liabylon  itself  in  Syria  and  Palestine, 
followed  by  the  precarious  Egyptian  occupation,  after 
Assyria  and  IJaby Ionia  had  begun  their  long  contention. 
Then  comes  before  us  the  epoch  of  Israel  in  Palestine, 
with  the  episodes  of  the  border  wars  and  the  rise  of 
Damascus,  all  made  possible  by  the  inaction  of  the  east- 
ern powers  whose  strength  was  being  wasted  upon  one 
another.  We  next  pass  in  review  the  era  of  Assyrian 
aggression,  its  slow  but  certain  acquisition  of  the  Syrian 
and  Palestinian  states,  tlie  svibversion  of  Damascus,  the 
conquest  and  captivity  of  northern  Israel,  the  vassalage, 
the  rebellion,  and  tlie  chastisement  of  Judah. 

§  837.  If  from  the  same  historical  standpoint  we  now 
look  forward  instead  of  backward,  we  shall  see  the  same 
parts  still  ])eing  played  by  the  leading  actors  in  the  drama. 
The  decline  of  Nineveh  and  the  withdrawal  of  its  garri- 
sons afford  Egypt  the  opportunity  of  grasping  again  at 
Asiatic  dominion,  and  even  of  masquerading  awhile  as  the 
heaven-sent  ruler  of  Palestine  (2  K.  xxiii.  34),  and  once 
more  her  fond  illusion  of  an  Asiatic  empire  is  dispelled  by 
an  older  and  stronger  claimant  from  beyond  the  River. 
Nineveh  is  gone,  but  Babylon  remains  and  revives.  The- 
Chald.'eans  succeed  to  the  empire  and  the  traditions  of 
Assyria.  Egypt  is  extruded  from  her  brief  occupancy  of 
Palestine,  and  the  old  problem  of  Hebrew  independence 
or  subjection  is  worked  out  as  before,  only  now  Nebuchad- 
rezzar is  the  controlling  factor  instead  of  Tiglathpileser  or 
Sargon.  Such  are  the  main  outward  conditions  of  the 
kingdom  of  Judah  in  the  days  of  King  Josiah  and  his  ill- 
fated  house. 

§  838.  My  readers  do  not  need  to  be  reminded  that  the 
domination  of  Assyria  and  Babylonia  in  Palestine  involved 


Cm.  I,  §  840 


EARLY   TIMES  OF  JOSIAII 


of 
of 
ce 
d- 
or 
he 
11- 

Ihe 

led 


mucli  more  than  mere  political  results,  liiit  its  relijj^ious 
and  moral  consequences  have  not  as  yet  been  so  obvious, 
because  they  are  not  immediately  suggested  l)y  the  out- 
ward events  that  more  obviously  mark  the  progress  of 
liistt)ry.  Yet  it  is  in  the  movements  of  the  inner  life  of  a 
]i)c(»ple  that  we  can  best  iind  out  the  sources  and  the  pro- 
cess of  its  development,  as  tlie  (qualities  of  a  soil  are  tested 
by  tlie  u[)turnings  of  the  plough.  The  whole  period  in 
the  history  of  Judah  from  Josiah  to  the  Exile  is  one  of 
those  seasons  of  startling  self-revelation  which  come  to 
nations  no  less  than  to  individuals,  and  in  studying  it  we 
must  not  lose  siglit  of  this  secondary  as^jcct  of  international 
relations.  For  the  time  of  Josiah  itself,  which  now  more 
inunediately  concerns  us,  we  have  ample  evidence,  often 
indirect  but  none  the  less  c^Jear  and  strong,  as  to  tlie  inter- 
nal condition  of  the  kingdom,  most  of  it  drawn  from  the 
literature  of  the  most  instructive  religious  movement  of 
pre-christian  antiquity. 

§  830.  Tlie  reign  of  Josiah  was  indeed  almost  wholly 
occupied  with  domestic  concerns.  When  he  came  to  the 
throne  (G39  B.C.)  at  the  age  of  eight  years,  peace  prevailed, 
as  far  as  we  know,  throughout  the  dominion  of  Assyria. 
Egypt  had  been  lost  to  the  empire  about  six  years  pre- 
viously (§  708).  But  the  Scythians  had  not  yet  begun 
their  ravages  (§  811),  and  the  empire  was  otherwise  intact. 
The  great  insurrection  had  been  quelled,  and  no  spirit 
was  left  in  the  subject  states  for  further  revolt.  And 
when  the  collapse  of  the  empire  had  begun,  and  that  pro- 
cess of  degeneration  was  going  on  which  preceded  disso- 
lution (§  820  ff.),  Josiah,  the  young  monarcli  now  come 
to  his  majority,  had  little  inducement  to  strike  ior  inde- 
pendence. All  the  freer  was  he,  therefore,  to  engage  in 
that  moral  and  religious  work  which  has  given  him  a 
unique  distinction  among  the  kings  of  the  earth. 

§  840.  The  reforming  party  in  the  state,  under  whose 
fostering  care  the  young  king  spent  the  years  of  his 
minority,  had  learned  well  the  principles  of  the  foreign 


\ 


4  VIRTUAL   INOEl'KNDENCE   OF  JOSIAH         Book  IX 

policy  maintained  by  the  proi)hetic  teaching  thronghout 
its  history  —  to  respect  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  suze- 
rain, to  engage  in  no  international  intrigues,  and  to  rest 
quietly  and  confidently  in  the  protection  of  Jehovah.  Only 
thus,  they  rightly  insisted,  was  it  possible  to  secure  the 
peace  and  tranquillity  necessary  for  the  worship  and  the 
practice  of  religion.  There  was  thus  no  inclination  to 
revolt,  even  when  the  chances  of  success  were  better  than 
ever  before.  Nor  was  there  temptation  to  unite  with  any 
of  the  feeble  surviving  communities  of  Palestine  so  as 
to  form  a  strong  independent  power.  Thus  the  party  of 
reform  did  not  fear  any  interruption  in  their  task  from 
partisans  of  disorder  and  sedition.  It  is  significant,  how- 
ever, of  the  freedom  of  action  which  Judah  claimed  for 
itself  that  the  district  of  Bethel,  which  was  a  part  of  the 
Northern  Kingdom,  was  now  claimed  by  the  king  at  Jeru- 
salem and  made  tlie  object  of  his  reforming  zeal,  along 
with  the  cities  of  Judah  proper  (2  K.  xxiii.  15  ff.). 

§  8-11.  While  Josiah  did  not  formally  renounce  his 
allegiance  to  the  moribund  kingdom  of  Assyria,  there 
were  unmistakable  evidences  that  the  bond  was  morally 
dissolved.  It  is  in  this  very  sphere  of  religious  reform, 
which  is  the  distinction  of  Josiah  and  his  epoch,  that  the 
virtual  independence  of  the  nation  is  most  plainl}^  marked. 
It  is  one  of  our  cardinal  principles  (§  299)  that  among 
the  ancient  nations  of  the  East  political  subjection  was, 
by  moral  necessity,  followed  by  religious  dependence. 
The  attentive  observer  will  find  this  nowhere  more  clearly 
exemplified  than  in  the  history  of  Israel  in  its  vassalage 
to  Assyria.  As  in  the  days  of  Ahaz  (§  640),  so  in  the 
times  of  Manasseh,  during  most  of  whose  reign  all  opposi- 
tion to  the  Assyrian  domination  had  ceased,  the  worsliip 
of  Israel  bore  in  its  most  conspicuous  features  the  stamp 
of  Babylonian  or  Assyrian  influence.  The  situation  gives 
a  valuable  suggestion  as  to  the  external  conditions  under 
which  religious  and  moral  progress  was  possible  in  the 
kingdom  of  Judah.   It  was  impossible,  as  we  have  just  seen, 


Cii.  I,  §  841     CONDITIONS  FAVOUHABLE   TO   REFOIiM 


while  foreign  influence  was  irresistibly  strong.  It  was 
equally  impossible  during  the  political  confusion  attending 
the  intrigues  and  revolts  that  marked  the  reigns  of  the 
latest  kings.  The  most  favourable  occasions  w^ere  offered 
when  the  pressure  of  the  suzerain  state  was  withdrawn. 
Such  was  the  case  in  the  later  times  of  Hezekiah  (§  im) 
and  such  also  in  these  days  of  Josiah. 


CHAPTER   II 


THE  GREAT  REFORMATION" 


§  842.  Since  no  important  movement  religious  or  polit- 
ical could  be  undertaken  Avithout  the  formal  sanction  and 
direction  of  the  king,  the  reform  which  goes  under  the 
name  of  Josiah,  though  long  prepared  for,  could  not  be  put 
in  operation  until  he  assumed  the  direct  control  of  the  gov- 
ernment. This  reform  aimed  to  be  radical  and  complete. 
It  Avas,  moreover,  no  mere  fierce  intolerant  iconoclasm. 
It  was  essentially  a  positive  propaganda  resting  on  jDro- 
found  au'l  wJl-considered  views  as  to  the  riglit  object 
and  mode  ■;!  worship,  and  —  what  was  most  significant  of 
all  —  as  to  the  necessary  association  of  religion  and  morals. 

§  843.  It  was  a  noble  band  of  devoted  servants  of 
Jehovah  who,  after  being  silenced  by  Manasseh  and  Amon, 
reappeared  to  oppose  the  whelming  tide  of  idolatry  and 
corruption  in  Jehovah's  land.  We  know  the  names  of  a 
few  ;  but  they  were  necessarily  the  representatives  of  a 
like-minded  community.  Of  these  the  king's  chief  coun- 
sellor was  Shaphan,  the  state  secretary  or  chancellor,  tlie 
founder  of  a  worthy  line  of  patriots  (see  2  K.  xxv.  22  ; 
Jer.  xxvi.  24  ;  xxix.  8  ;  xxxvi.  10  ff. ;  xxxix.  14  ;  xl. 
5,  9,  11  ;  xli.  2).  He  had  perhaps  been  the  guardian  of 
the  king's  tender  youth,  and  was  at  any  rate  retained  in 
the  higliest  place  in  the  government  on  account  of  his  years 
and  fidelity.  Already  his  son  Ahikam  was  bearing  i)art 
of  his  burdens  (2  K.  xxii.  12).  Next  to  him  was  Hilkiah 
the  priest,  also  well  advanced  in  life. 

§  844.  Such  were  the  men  whom  we  find  to  liave  been 
Josiah's  trusted  counsellors  when  his  public  career  began, 

6 


■Ch.  II,  §  846      HOW   REFORM   WAS  FORWARDED  7 

As  in  the  other  reigns  described  in  the  books  of  Kings, 
there  was  here  a  huge  background  of  action  and  movement 
which  does  not  appear  in  the  word-pictures  that  serve  for 
historical  records.  The  change  in  dominant  opinion  that 
marks  the  transition  from  Anion  to  Josiah  is  as  significant 
as  it  is  obscure.  Religious  sentiment  especially  was  hard 
to  move,  and  we  must  beware  at  the  outset  of  assuming 
that  among  the  people  at  large  it  was  greatly  moved.  In 
the  very  nature  of  tlie  case  only  moral  causes  working 
through  social  conditions  were  suiricieiit  to  bring  about 
such  a  change,^  and  these  are  always  difficult  to  ascertain 
and  to  trace.  The  attitude  of  the  leading  men  is  more 
clearly  revealed,  and  in  the  present  instance  it  is  quite 
fully  described. 

§  845.  Under  what  influences  did  the  chief  men  of 
Josiah's  time  become  so  imbued  with  the  theocratic  spirit  ? 
In  the  time  of  Ilezekiah,  Israel's  vantage-ground  was 
hardly  and  slowly  won.  It  was  more  than  lost  in  the 
days  of  Manasseh.  How  was  it  recovered  ?  Negatively, 
by  the  absence  of  noxious  foreign  influence  C§  840  f.). 
From  the  positive  and  move  important  side  a  complete 
answer  is  probably  beyond  reach.  Some  help  may  be 
gained  by  following  up  the  course  of  the  literary  and 
moral  development  of  Israel ;  and  this  we  shall  attempt 
later  (§  805  ff.).  Meanwhile  we  can  do  little  more  than 
remind  tiie  reader  that  the  events  recorded  must  have  had 
an  adequate  cause.  And  we  must  also  repeat  the  reminder 
that  Hebrew  narrative  is  extreme  and  one-sided  from  the 
modern  occidental  point  of  view.  Under  ]\Ianasseh  not 
merely  a  few  devotees  but  a  substantial  party  of  Jehovah 
must  have  kept  their  ranks  unbroken,  so  that  when  the 
favourable  time  arrived  decisive  action  could  be  taken. 
The  circumstances  attending  the  violent  death  of  Anion 


1  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remind  tlio  reader  tliat  a  "good"  rei^n 
was  mucli  niDre  of  a  phenomenon  in  Israel  than  was  an  evil  reign.  The 
king  was  ultimately  the  product  of  the  people,  and  the  popular  religion 
was  mixed  with  heathenism  during  the  whole  duration  of  the  kingdom. 


THE    "HOOK    OF    DIHKCTION" 


Book  IX 


•n 


and  tht!  succession  of  his  infant  son  are  unknown  ;  but  we 
may  take  fur  granted  tliat  the  theocratic  party  availed 
themselves  of  the  occasion  to  secure  control  of  young 
Josiah.  It  was  the  Jerusalem  priests  ah)ne  who  had  the 
opportunity,  through  organization  and  official  i)restige,  to 
gain  such  an  advantage.  And  since,  as  we  have  just 
seen,  a  sort  of  priestly  aristocracy  was  in  control  at  the 
time  of  the  reformation,  we  may  conclude  that  this  power- 
ful body  had  been  brought  into  line  with  a  movement 
which,  though  rudely  checked,  was  neither  dead  nor 
sleeping  during  the  oppression  of  half  a  century. 

§  846.  The  story  of  this  movement  as  brought  into 
effect  may  be  written  somewhat  as  follows,  on  the  basis  of 
2K.  xxii.,  xxiii.  (of.  2  Chr.  xxxiv.,  xxxv.).  In  the  eigh- 
teenth year  of  Josiaii,  when,  as  we  may  assume,  the  serious 
work  of  his  reign  had  been  long  begun,  the  business  of 
repairing  the  temple  was  being  undertaken  after  the  old- 
fashioned  method  of  first  securing  by  free-will  offerings 
the  money  wherewith  to  do  it^  (cf.  2  K.  xii.  4  if.).  When 
a  considerable  contribution  had  been  made,  Josiah  sent  his 
secretary,  Shaphan,  to  Ililkiah  to  notify  him  that  he  might 
now  count  and  disburse  the  money.  In  the  course  of  the 
interview  Hilkiah  informed  his  visitor  that  he  "  had  found 
the  book  of  direction  in  the  house  of  Jehovah."  The 
book  was  handed  to  the  secretary,  who,  having  read  it, 
returned  to  the  king,  gave  an  account  of  his  ei'rand,  and 
having  produced  the  book  read  it  aloud  to  him. 

§  847.  Here  an  explanation  is  needed.  What  was  the 
book  of  direction  ?  and  how  did  it  come  to  be  found  in 

'  The  fact  that  Josiah  repaired  the  defects  in  the  temple  is  of  itself  no 
proof  that  it  had  heen  neglected  in  the  preceding  reigns.  As  in  Assyria 
and  Babylonia,  where  every  king  made  it  his  boast  in  his  memoirs  that 
he  repaired  the  temple  of  his  favourite  god,  it  was  doubtless  a  matter  of 
principle  with  the  kings  of  Judah  to  keep  the  sacred  places  in  order. 
Yet  so  much  had  been  added  for  the  purposes  of  heathenish  worship  that 
it  is  perhaps  fair  to  assume  that  during  the  long  reign  of  Manasseh  less 
attention  had  been  paid  to  the  temple  proper  than  to  certain  chambers 
and  annexes  (2  K.  xxiii.  4,  7,  11  f.),  where,  as  in  the  next  generation 
(§  1183  S.),  some  of  the  idolatrous  rites  were  observed. 


Cii.  II.  §  H48       now   TIIK    »(K)iv    WAS   'ForND" 


0 


the  toinplu  ?  The  former  question  is  easily  answered. 
The  hook  was  a  new  an<l  enhirj^ed  edition  of  the  "  liook 
of  the  Covenant"  (§  1)20, 1)4:]  f.)  prepared  for  the  need  of 
the  times.  Jt  eomi)rises  suhstantially  the  legal  portion 
of  Deuteronomy  (chs.  xii.-xxvi.),  to  whieii  the  hortatory 
prefaee  (ehs.  v.-xi.)  was  pro])ahly  added  sonu'what  later. 
'J'his  legislative  code  is  thoroughl^MUterspersed  with  argu- 
ments and  appeals  for  a  purer  faith,  a  stricter  ritual,  and 
a  more  spiritual  hahit  of  life,^  The  second  cpiestion  has 
perhaps  created  more  serious  dillicadty  of  another  kind,  the 
ground  of  which  is  that  the  hook,  being  almost  or  quite  a 
contemporary  production,  could  scarcely  have  been  lost  in 
the  temple.  The  dilficulty  is  in  part  removed  when  we  ob- 
serve that  the  narrative  says  nothing  of  the  book  having 
been  lost.  All  that  is  necessarily  implied  (xxii.  8,  18)  is 
that  Ililkiah  lighted  in  some  way  upon  the  hook.^  What 
is  harder  to  explain  is  the  deiinite  phrase  "the  book  of 
direction,"  which  points  to  some  book  known  as  at  one 
time  existing,  and  from  which,  since  Josiah  was  apparently 
unaware  of  its  contents,  it  may  be  inferred  that  the  book 
had  not  been  in  circulation  anumg  his  contemporaries. 

§  848.  The  probable  explanation  is  that  the  former 
"law-book,"  which  we  now  know  as  the  first  "  liook  of 
the  Covenant,"  and  whose  existence  was  a  matter  of  noto- 
riety in  Israel,  had  never  been  in  force  as  a  statute-book, 


1  Perhaps  the  wliole  of  chs.  i.-xi.  was  added  by  the  same  hand,  l.-iv. 
40  being  a  review  of  tlie  history  of  Israel  from  tlie  Exodus  to  the  settle- 
ment east  of  the  Jordan,  placed  in  the  mouth  of  Moses  just  before  his 
death,  followed  by  a  solemn  appeal  to  serve  and  obey  Jehovah.  Ch. 
xxviii.  was  probably  the  original  conclusion  of  xii.-xxvi.,  ch.  xxvii.  having 
been  interpolated  to  connect  its  subject  (the  curses  and  blessings  on  Ebal 
and  Gerizim)  with  the  similar  ideas  of  ch.  xxviii.  Chs.  xxix.  and  xxx.  are 
apparently  a  hortatory  contiimation  of  xii.-xxvi ;  xxviii.  by  the  same  hand 
ius  i.-xi.  Chs.  xxxi.-xxxiv.  are  from  several  sources,  and  did  not  belong 
to  the  older  Deuteronomy. 

2  The  word  (nxo)  in  all  the  Semitic  languages  has  the  same  meaning  of 
attaining  or  acquiring.  For  the  Hebrew  cf.  Gen.  xxvi.  12  ;  2  Sam.  xx.  6. 
( >ur  English  find  is  identical  with  Latin  peto.  The  meaning  of  invenire  is 
similarly  developed. 


i«OT«p 


10 


CONSTKHNATION  AND   IXQUIRY 


Bo(»K  IX 


'•f 


and  had  been  almost  forgotten,  kept  as  it  was  during  tlie 
unsympathetic  regime  of  Manasseh  in  the  hands  of  a  small 
theocratic  circle ;  and  that  it  was  now  reproduced  in  an 
expanded  form,  with  tlie  hortatory  and  minatory  additions 
which  greatly  impressed  King  Josiah.  The  work  of  pre- 
paring the  book  having  been  (h)ne  under  priestly  auspices 
and  perhaps  within  the  precincts  of  the  temple  itself,  the 
volume  might  very  well  liave  been  "found  where  it  was  not 
lost."  That  there  was  a  certain  amount  of  cons(nentious 
finesse  in  the  business  is,  however,  quite  ai)parent,  though 
in  this  quality  it  has  been  outclassed  by  many  of  the 
ecclesiastical  intrigues  of  our  better  Christian  times. 

§  849.  To  realize  the  effect  of  the  reading  of  the  book 
upon  the  susceptible  feoul  of  Josiah  we  must  read  it  our- 
selves, that  is,  read  over  Deut.  xii.-xxvi.,  and  imagine  what 
a  pious  king  in  old  Jerusalem  must  have  felt  in  hearing 
for  the  fij'st  time  a  divine  revelation  of  such  tremendous 
import.  The  book  contained  explicit  directions  as  to 
worship  and  conduct,  and  as  the  i)enalty  for  national 
disobedience  decreed  the  loss  of  home  and  country,  the  sen- 
tence of  the  offenders  was  cumulative.  For  many  genera- 
tions warnings  and  precepts  hud  been  alike  neglected,  and 
when  the  day  of  doom  should  come,  the  sins  of  the  fathers 
also  would  be  visited  upon  the  children.  Could  the  doom 
be  averted  by  s])eedy  and  complete  obedience  and  penitence? 

§  850.  Ililkiuh  himself  Avas  summoned  and  appealed 
to.  He  was  unable  or  unAvilling  to  answer.  A  commis- 
sion of  inquiry  was  then  appointed  by  the  king,  of  which 
Hilkiah  was  the  head,  and  which  besides  included  the  state 
secretary  Shaphan  and  his  son  Ahikam,  Achbor,  one  of 
the  royal  council,  and  Asaiali,  "the  king's  servant."^  To 
them  the  charge  was  given:  "Go  and  inquire  of  Jeho- 
vah on  my  behalf  and  on  behalf  of  the  people  and  on 

1  For  this  peculiar  title  see  Stade,  GVI.  I,  650,  and  the  illustration 
inscribed  there  and  In  Renzinger,  II  A.  p.  2o8  (cf.  p.  ;)10).  Stade's  con- 
jecture that  the  chief  of  tlie  eunuchs  is  meant  is  unnecessary.  The  officer 
had  apparently  to  attend  to  the  special  personal  business  of  the  king,  while 
the  other  officials  were  servants  of  the  state. 


Cii.  II,  §  8r,i 


AXSWKR   OK  TlIK   OKACLK 


11 


lion 
Ion- 
leer 

Lile 


behalf  of  all  Judah,  (MUK'erniiijf  the  words  of  tliis  hook  that 
has  been  found ;  for  great  is  the  wrath  of  Jehovah  that 
has  been  kindled  aj^ainst  us,  because  our  fathers  liavo  not 
obeyed  the  words  of  this  book,  to  do  what  lias  been  enjoined 
upon  us"  (xxii.  13). 

§  851.  The  deputation,  under  the  lead  of  Ililkiah,  soui^ht 
a  prophetic  not  a  priestly  oracle  (xxii.  14).  This  was  the 
fitting  course  in  every  way,  particularly  in  an  emergency, 
and  when  the  interests  of  the  connnuuity  were  at  stake 
(cf.  §  oH!)  and  note).  Resort  was  had,  however,  not  to  a 
proi)het,  but  to  a  prophetess  named  Iluldah,  wife  of  the 
keeper  of  the  wardrobe.  She  is  the  only  prophetess  of 
the  Old  Testament  belonging  to  the  higher  pro[)hetic  era,* 
when  "direction"  implied  a  differentiation  of  the  spirit- 
ual from  the  civil  or  jmlicial  function.'^  The  action  was 
strictly  regular.  It  has  been  asked  why  some  outstand- 
ing prophet  like  Jeremiah  was  not  appealed  to.  liut  the 
question  implies  a  misconception  of  the  function  of  the 
great  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament.  They  did  not  be- 
long to  the  prophetic  guilds,  nor  had  they  anything  to 
do  with  the  "  directing  "  or  with  the  official  oracles,  while 
Huldah  was  a  member  of  an  inner  circle  of  professionals 
(§  lOGG).  Her  answer  as  far  as  it  is  reported  was  Avholly 
in  accord  with  the  movement  for  reform.     It  was  to  the 

1  Of  Noadiah  (Neh.  vl.  14)  we  know  only  the  name.  The  context 
would  suggest  that  she  was  a  degenerate. 

2  A  development  from  the  lower  rudimentary  function  of  Miriam  and 
Deborah.  Comp.  Professor  I.  .1.  Peritz,  "  Woman  in  the  ancient  Hebrew 
cult,"  in  Journal  of  lUblicnl  Literature,  18U8,  p.  142  ff.  The  sutijccl  is 
still  somewhat  obscure,  but  there  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  we  should 
make  the  prophetess  a  development  independent  of  the  prophet.  Hnth 
really  belonged  to  one  system,  but  the  prophetess  was  a  rarer  functionary 
and  therefore  all  the  more  suited  for  appeal  in  a  critical  time,  as  carrying 
exceptional  inspiration.  Moreover,  we  can  hardly  exclude  the  idea  that, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  Pythia,  the  Sibyl,  the  Witch  of  Endor,  and  others, 
the  power  of  divination  was  ascribed  to  woman  when  she  assumed  the 
prophetic  r61e,  cf.  Ez.  xiii.  17  ff.  (§  1100).  That  Iluldah  was  a  member  of 
the  professional  cin;le  is  made  still  more  clear  by  the  fact  that  her  placo 
of  residence  is  specially  mentioned,  since  the  professions  occupied  sev- 
erally streets  or  ciuurlers  of  the  city  by  themselves  (cf.  Jer.  xxxvii.  li!j. 


ip 


12 


AIMS  OF  THE   REFORM 


Book  IX 


effect  that  the  penalty  annexed  to  disobedience  would 
certainly  be  inflicted,  l)ut  not  in  Josiah's  day,  since  he  liad 
humbled  himself  before  Jehovah  (xxii.  14-20).^ 

§  852.  Josiah  immediately  called  a  general  lassembly 
of  the  people  at  Jerusalem,  their  elders  and  the  orders  of 
priests  and  prophets  taking  the  responsil)le  places  as  rep- 
resentatives. To  them  he  read  tlie  book,  and  bound  liim- 
self  and  them  by  a  solemn  oath  and  covenant  to  obey  its 
precepts  and  carry  out  its  requirements  (2  K.  xxiii.  1-3). 
The  fulfilment  of  this  engagement  was  the  great  work  of 
reform. 

§  853.  Since  our  present  concern  is  with  the  reform  as 
it  affected  the  policy  of  the  kingdom  and  the  condition  of 
the  people  as  a  whole,  it  will  suffice  to  point  out  in  a  gen- 
eral way  its  purpose  as  bearing  (1)  upon  the  mode  and 
form,  (2)  upon  the  place,  of  worship.  As  to  the  first 
object,  the  reformers  were  to  extirpate  the  foreign  non- 
Israelitish  rites  and  observances,  and  to  rid  the  worship 
of  Jehovah  of  everything  sensuous  and  material.  As  to 
the  second,  no  place  of  worship  was  to  be  tolerated  except 
the  temple  at  Jerusalem.  That  this  work  was  associ- 
ated with  an  ancient  "  law-book,"  revised,  enlarged,  and 
adapted  to  present  occasions,  grew  out  of  the  fact  that  it 
was  intended  to  vindicate,  reestablish,  and  develop  what- 
ever in  belief  and  practice  was  rooted  in  the  truest  faith 
and  teaciiing  of  Israel's  past  history. 

§  854.  The  religious  abuses  to  be  rooted  out  may  be 
grouped  as  follows :  (1)  The  unspiritual  worship  of 
Jehovah.  The  adoration  of  Jehovah  in  a  symbolic  mate- 
rial form  was   never  so  great  a  danger  in  Judah  as  in 

'  Huldah  concluded  by  saying  (v.  20)  that  Josiah  should  be  gathered  to 
his  tombs  (i.e.  added  to  those  already  in  the  family  tombs,  cf.  Job  xvii.  1) 
in  peace.  On  this  point  her  oracular  inspiration  failed.  Stade  (GVI.  I, 
»).')"J)  tliinks  tliat  tiie  oracle,  as  we  have  it,  is  a  substitute  for  the 
ori^'inal.  which  must  have  been  a  command  to  go  on  with  the  practical 
fulHlment  of  the  injunctions  of  the  book.  The  whole  of  the  answer  may 
not  be  given  in  the  text,  though  what  is  given  has  the  air  of  being 
exoauded  and  elaborated. 


Cii.  II,  §  855 


IDOLATRY  PURE    AND   MIXED 


13 


in 


Israel.  Idolatrous  worship  of  Jehovah  in  the  strict  sense 
perhaps  never  existed  in  Jerusalem.  Indeed,  the  only 
public  authorized  image  appears  to  have  been  the  brazen 
serpciut  destroyed  by  Ilezekiah  (2  K.  xviii.  4).  But  it 
was  inevitable  that  the  rites  of  Jehovah  in  an  unspiritual 
age  should  degenerate  by  association  with  any  one  of  the 
various  popular  idolatrous  symbols,  from  the  compara- 
tively innocent  stone-pillars,  with  their  traditional  sug- 
gestion of  the  presence  of  the  deity,  and  the  asheras  or 
conventionalized  sacred  trees  beside  the  altar  of  Jehovah, 
to  the  grosser  symbols  of  imported  foreign  cults.  The 
radical  remedy  was  the  obliteration  of  all  outward  sym- 
bols or  accompaniments  of  worship  according  to  the  direc- 
tion of  Deuteronomy  (xii.  3  ;  xvi.  21  f.)  ;  and  such  was 
the  work  of  the  reformation  (2  K.  xxiii.  14  f.). 

§  855.  (2)  There  was  the  worship  of  old  Canaanitic 
deities.  This  was  one  of  the  most  noxious  and  persistent 
of  unlawful  cults.  Not  that  any  distinct  personal  Haal  was 
adoiad  in  Judali  after  the  downfall  of  Athaliah  and  her 
Ph(Bnician  ritual  (2  K.  xi.).  It  was  rather  the  intrusive 
revival  in  times  of  laxness  and  infidelity  of  the  cults  of 
the  local  dtities,  the  ""baals"  of  the  several  cities  or 
sacred  places  of  ancient  Canaan.  The  syncretism  of 
Jehovah  and  Baal  worship  was  aggravated  by  the  fact 
that  Jehovah  was  naturally  and  innocently  called  the 
"  Baal "  or  "  Lord  "  of  his  people.  Yet  it  seems  o})en  to 
question  Avhether  there  was  not  at  least  in  Jerusalem  a 
generalizing  of  the  old  local  Baal  worship  in  one  collec- 
tive image  which  was  abolished  in  this  reform  by  Josiah 
(2  K.  xxiii.  4).  There  had  been  also  the  cult  of  the 
Pluenician  Ashtoreth  (Astarte)  introduced  by  Solomon, 
the  last  trace  of  whicli  was  now  effaced  l)y  Josiah  along 
with  tiie  former  shrines  of  Ciiemosh  of  Moab  and  Milcom 
of  Amnion  1  Cxxiii.  13).     It  was  the  "high  places"  that 

1  A  pantheon  was  the  natural  accoinpaninicnt  of  the  litthi  world- 
monarchy  of  poor  Solomon.  That  it  was  revived  under  Manasseh  indioatea 
the  inveterate  inclination  of  old  Israel  to  diverse  worship  (see  Deut.  xiii.). 


naw 


14 


BABYLONIAN   MODES  OF  WORSHIP 


Book  IX 


particularly  promoted  all  such  degradation  of  tlie  service 
of  Jehovah.  To  the  category  of  Canaanitic  deities  must 
be  assigned  the  Molech  (or  more  properly  MelecK)  to 
whom  children  were  offered  by  fire  in  the  time  of  Manas- 
seh  (2  K.  xxi.  G  ;  cf.  Mic.  vi.  7).  The  mound  of  Tophet 
in  the  valley  of  Hinnom  where  this  most  horrible  of  rites 
was  practised  was  destroyed  by  Josiah  (2  K.  xxiii.  10). 
For  prohibitions  in  the  "law-book"  see  Deut.  xii.  29-31; 
xviii.  10. 

§  856.  (3)  ]More  imposing  and  more  influential  among 
the  ruling  classes  were  the  special  modes  of  worship  bor- 
rowed from  Assyria  and  Babylonia  (§  841).  What  had 
been  introduced  by  Ahaz  in  consequence  of  his  subjection 
to  his  Assyrian  patron  (§  G40)  was  now  supplemented  by 
a  complete  priestly  service.  There  were  utensils  for 
sacritice  to  the  host  of  heaven  in  the  temple  itself,  which 
were  burned  by  Josiah  along  with  other  idolatrous  appli- 
ances on  the  bottom  flats  of  the  Kidron  valley  (2  K. 
xxiii.  4).  There  were  priests  Avho  burned  incense  to  the 
sun  and  the  moon,  and  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac,  and  all  the 
host  of  lieaven  (Deut.  xvii.  2-7),  who  were  got  rid  of  by 
Josiah  (xxiii.  5  ;  cf.  xxi.  3  ;  Jer.  viii.  2).  There  were 
the  horses  which  the  kings  of  Judah  had  dedicated  to  the 
"Sun,"  and  to  which  a  place  had  been  assigned  on  the 
west  side  of  the  temple  (cf.  1  Chr.  xxvi.  18),  and  which 
were  now  removed  by  Josiah,  who  at  the  same  time 
burned  the  chariots  of  the  sun  with  fire  (xxiii.  11). 
There  was  on  the  roof  of  the  cupola  of  Ahaz  an  astro- 
logical observatory  which  Josiah  broke  to  pieces  (xxiii.  12). 
Add  to  these  the  adoration  of  the  "Queen  of  Heaven," 
who  was  made  the  consort  of  Jehovah  ^  (see  Jer.  vii.  18), 


1  In  the  same  way  as  the  Babylonian  Ami,  the  highest  heaven-god, 
was  provided  with  a  consort  Anat  (Jastrow,  UBA.  p.  163)  ;  compare  Bel 
and  Belit  ("Beltis").  The  impersonal,  indefinite  character  of  the  west- 
ern or  Canaanitic  Baal  is  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  there  was  no  corre- 
sponding feminine  deity,  Ashtoreth  (Habyl.  Ishtar)  being  a  mere  female- 
analogue  and  not  a  companion  or  mate. 


Cii.  II,  §  80!)     LICENTIOUSNESS  AND   SUPERSTITION 


16 


a  cult  which  persisted  even  to  the  time  of  the  Captivity 
(Jer.  xliv.  17  ff.). 

§  857.  (4)  The  most  virulent  of  the  evil  practices  of 
the  time,  in  large  measure  promoted  by  a  perverted  re- 
ligious feeling  and  even  made  a  religious  institution,  was 
sexual  indulgence,  the  universal  attendant  upon  nature  wor- 
ship in  the  ancient  East  (§  1188  f.,  1380  ff.).  Tlie  minis- 
ters of  these  obscene  rites  within  the  very  jirecincts  of  the 
temple  were  expelled  by  Josiah,  and  their  apartments  were 
razed  to  the  ground  (2  K.  xxiii.  7  ;  cf.  Deut.xxiii.  17  f.). 

§  808.  (o)  Finally  there  were  superstitious  beliefs  and 
customs,  partly  native  to  the  soil,  partly  inherited  from 
the  old  nomadic  life  of  Isrjiel,  and  partly  imported  from 
abroad  —  above  all  from  Babylonia,  where  sorcery  and 
magic  had  long  been  a  science  and  an  art  (cf.  Isa.  xlvii.  ; 
§  1329).  All  such  usages  and  their  professors  Josiah  put 
away,  "that  he  might  make  good  the  words  of  direction 
which  were  written  in  the  book  that  Ililkiah  the  priest 
found  in  the  house  of  Jehovah"  (2  Iv.  xxiii.  24;  cf.  Dent, 
xviii.  10-14).  The  object  of  divination  and  necromancy 
was  to  ascertain  the  will  of  the  higher  powers.  Instead 
of  this  the  will  of  Jehovah  was  to  be  followed  and  might 
be  ascertained.  For  this  end  was  issued  the  great  procla- 
mation of  the  prophetic  word,  of  its  authenticity  and  its 
sufficiency  (Deut.  xviii.  15  ff.). 

§  859.  The  foregoing  may  suffice  as  a  representation 
of  the  religious  evils  and  abuses  which  abounded  in  the 
early  days  of  Josiah  and  in  those  of  his  jjredecessors. 
It  was  characteristic  of  this  great  movement  that  it  was 
the  first  attempt  on  a  large  scale  to  remove  not  only 
religious  but  moral  evils,  and  that  on  the  ground  that 
the  one  class  was  necessarily  involved  or  rather  included 
in  the  other.  In  the  account  of  the  reform  in  Kings  (cf. 
2  Chr.  xxxiv.  f.)  no  mention  is  made  of  the  purification 
of  justice  and  of  the  redress  of  social  wrongs.  For  this  we 
nuist  turn  to  the  "  book  of  direction,"  which  was  incident- 
ally and  yet  virtually  a  hand-book  of  ethics  for  the  people 


nm^mmmmBm 


16 


ABOLITION  OF  LOCAL  SHRINES 


Book  IX 


of  Jehovah.  Besides  inculcating  justice  in  all  the  walks 
of  life,  it  breathes  a  lofty  spirit  of  humanity  and  of  regard 
for  tlie  needy,  the  suffering,  and  the  oppressed.  Save 
on  the  one  point  of  intolerance  toward  the  enemies  of 
Jehovah,  it  stands  in  these  aspects  almost  upon  a  New 
Testament  level.  The  central  and  controlling  idea  in 
the  book  is,  however,  that  which  was  asserted  in  the 
reforms  of  Josiah,  the  doing  away  with  all  modes  of  false 
worship,  and  the  exclusive  establishment  of  a  spiritual 
worship  of  Jehovah.  In  other  words,  the  book  is  pri- 
marily and  fundamentally  formal  and  ritualistic. 

§  860.  To  secure  this  great  end,  however,  it  was  not 
enough  that  all  the  opjiosing  or  competing  modes  and 
forms  of  worship  should  be  prohibited  and  abolished. 
Image-breaking  would  not  cure  idolatry.  Idolatry  was 
mainly  fostered  not  by  image-worship,  but  by  the  con- 
ception of  the  local  manifestations  of  Jehovah.  Idolatry 
is  inevitable  if  God  exists  or  appears  in  many  forms.  In 
other  words,  the  unity  of  God  secures  his  spirituality. 
In  every  local  shrine  or  "  high  place"  (hdnid^  there  were, 
to  be  sure,  seductions  to  mixed  or  debased  forms  of  wor- 
'•'>ip.  That  was  a  great  evil,  but  by  care  and  watchful- 
ness it  might  be  kept  down.  What  could  not  be 
quenched  in  the  popular  mind  was  the  persuasion  that 
every  shrine  had  its  own  type  or  manifestation  of 
Jehovali.  The  result  was  the  prevalence  of  practical 
polytheism  with  its  attendant  symbolism  and  image-wor- 
ship. Hence  the  revolutionary  idea  of  abolishing  all 
the  high  places,  except  the  central  shrine  of  Jerusalem.^ 
The  attem})t  had  been  made  by  Ilezekiah,  but  it  failed, 

1  This  idea  was  perhaps  lirst  suggested  by  Isaiah,  the  propliet  of  "  Zioii. " 
But  llezekiali,  if  we  may  judge  from  Isaiah's  own  teaching,  probably 
did  not  attempt  the  thorough-going  abolition  of  local  worship  aimed  at 
by  Josiah  (of.  Isa.  xix.  19,  21,  and  i.  29).  At  any  rate  the  age  was 
not  then  ripe  for  the  revolution,  though  outward  circumstances  were 
favourable.  The  difference  between  the  reform  of  Ilezekiau  and  of 
Jt)siah  is  discussed  by  W.  R.  Smith,  OTJC.-'  p.  355  £f.,  aud  more  skepti- 
cally by  Smeud,  ATK.  p.  268  f. 


Ch.  II,  §  802 


CEXTllALTZIXG  OF   WORSHIP 


17 


lied, 


in  spite  of  the  prestige  that  came  to  Jerusalem  through 
its  great  deliverance  (§  79(5).  The  idea,  however,  with 
the  purj)ose  was  not  extinguished.  It  worked  in  the 
faithful  theocratic  party  all  through  the  dark  days  of 
Manasseh  and  Anion.  It  naturally  proved  a  chief  mo- 
tive of  Deuteronomy,  placed  at  the  opening  of  the  "  law- 
hook  "  (I)eut.  xii.  1-28),  repeated  and  reiterated  through- 
out the  work,  and  realized  in  the  active  measures  of  Josiah. 

§  861.  Hand  in  hand  with  the  zeal  of  the  reformers  for 
the  purity  of  Jehovah's  worship  went  their  desire  for  the 
aggrandizement  and  sanctity  of  Jerusalem  as  the  exclu- 
sive seat  of  that  worship.  Centralization  was  for  Israel 
as  desirable  and  as  inevitable  in  the  religious  as  in  the 
political  sphere.  But  for  a  religion  such  as  that  of  Jehovah 
it  was  far  more  dillicult  to  realize.  For  it  was  in  Jeru- 
salem itself  that  the  gravest  obstacles  to  purity  of  wor- 
ship were  found,  as  the  account  of  the  attempted  reform 
will  show  (2  K.  xxiii.  4  ff.).  Thereafter,  however, 
Judah  was  more  and  more  absorbed  in  Jerusalem,  for 
good  or  for  evil. 

§  8(!2.  Two  far-reaching  measures  in  the  line  of  the 
general  purpose  of  the  reform  contributed  to  the  central- 
izing movement.  One  of  these  was  the  enhanced  religious 
value  and  dignity  given  to  the  great  annual  feasts :  the 
feast  of  unleavened  bread,  the  feast  of  weeks,  and  the  feast 
of  ingathering.  These  were  agricultural  feasts,  long 
cherished  among  the  people  as  celel)rations  of  the  chief 
events  of  the  year,  the  first  attending  the  barley  harvest, 
the  second  the  wheat  harvest,  and  the  third  the  fruit  har- 
vest. These  had  always  a  religious  character,  for  every 
feast  was  a  religious  service  (§  499).  Hut  if  they  could 
be  wholly  detached  from  traditional  half-heathen  associa- 
tions with  the  powers  and  processes  of  nature,  they 
might  be  made  to  subserve  instead  of  impairing  the  true 
worship  of  Jehovah.  Hence  it  was  ordained  that  they 
should  be  held  only  in  Jerusalem  at  the  temple.  Each 
of  them,  moreover,  was  invested  with  a  deeper  and  higher 
c 


18 


KKASTS   AND   PHIKSTS 


Book  IX 


religious  meaning.  The  first  and  the  greatest  of  them 
at  tl>e  heginning  of  the  year  was  especially  honoured  and 
indeed  transfigured  for  all  coming  ages.  AVith  it  was 
united  the  closely  following  ceremony  of  the  offering  of 
the  firstlings  of  the  flock  born  in  the  springtime.  Hence 
the  full  significance  of  the  combined  feast  of  unleavened 
bread  and  the  passover.  The  celebration  of  this  festival 
was  made  the  occasion  of  the  ratification  of  the  work  of 
reform  ;  "and  the  king  conunanded  all  the  people,  saying, 
Keep  the  passover  unto  Jehovah  your  God,  as  it  is  writ- 
ten in  the  book  of  the  covenant"  (2  K.  xxiii.  21;  cf. 
Dent.  xvi.  1-17). 

§  868.  Yet  another  decisive  movement  marked  this 
momentous  religious  epoch.  The  Levites  had  long  been 
the  proper  holders  of  the  priestly  office,  though  not  always 
the  only  sacrificers  (Jud.  xvii.  off.;  2  Sam.  xv.  24),  for 
sacriiiees  could  be  offered  by  a  man  of  any  tribe,  as  by  a 
house-father  for  his  household,  or  by  a  king  for  his  people. 
Hut  now  the  order  of  the  priesthood  was  made  strict  and 
exclusive  :  only  the  descendants  of  Levi  could  be  priests, 
and  all  the  members  of  the  tribe  were  to  have  part  in  the 
office  (Deut.  xviii.  1  ff.).  Now  as  all  the  sacrifices  were 
to  be  performed  at  the  sanctuary  in  Jerusalem,  this  priestly 
system  came  to  minister  to  the  greater  glory  of  the  cen- 
tral slirine,  having  all  the  political  force  of  a  close  corpora- 
tion and  all  the  religious  prestige  of  a  divine  institution. 

§  8()4.  Such  was  the  great  Reform  in  intent  and  war- 
rant. What  it  was  in  effect  we  shall  see  somewhat  later 
(§  1019  ff'.).  It  behooves  us  now  to  inquire  into  the 
history  of  the  ideas  and  principles  upon  which  it  was 
based.  This  inquiry  will  lead  us  (1)  to  trace  the  growth 
and  estimate  tiie  character  of  the  literature  which  led 
up  to  Deuteronomy ;  and  (2)  to  follow  the  progress  of 
moral  and  religious  feeling  and  practice  up  to  the  era  of 
the  Reformation. 


CHAPTER  III 


DEUTERONOMY   AND   THE    HEBREW    LITERATURE 


this 
been 
ways 
I,  for 
by  a 
ople. 
iind 
iests, 
1  the 
were 
lestly 
cen- 
)ora- 
on. 
war- 
ater 
the 
was 
)wth 
led 


§  8();3.  Deuteronomy  was  not  tlie  work  of  a  day  or  a 
year.  Much  less  was  it  the  unaided  work  of  those  who 
composed  it.  Its  roots  were  struck  deep  and  wide  into 
the  moral  and  religious  history  of  Israel.  In  substance, 
far  more  than  in  form,  it  is  an  exhibition  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  national  religious  thought  and  life.  It  is, 
moreover,  so  comprehensive  and  far-reaching  as  to  be  cen- 
tral and  fundamental  for  the  Old  Testament  Revelation. 
It  is  indeed  itself  a  perpetual  revelation,  a  challenge  to 
each  succeeding  age  to  consider  the  depth  and  breadth 
and  length  of  the  process  of  the  religious  education  of  the 
race,  as  startling  to  each  new  inquirer  as  it  was  to  Josiah 
and  his  ministers.  As  the  counterpart  of  the  obscure  yet 
active  and  ailluent  historical  period  in  which  it  saw  the 
light,  we  must  resort  to  it  if  we  would  find  the  key  to  the 
literature  of  ancient  Israel.  From  the  point  of  view  of 
literary  history,  it  is  of  special  importance  because  it  is 
essentially  an  expansion  and  adaptation  of  earlier  docu- 
ments (§  943  ff.),  and  also  because  the  same  school  of 
reformers  and  writers  that  produced  it  continued  their 
work  in  editing  the  earlier  historical  books  of  the  Old 
Testament,  thus  giving  form  and  colour  to  a  great  portion 
of  the  sacred  writings. 

§  8(]G.  We  are  thus  at  length  in  a  position  to  review 
the  earlier  literature  of  the  Hebrew  people.  It  is  not  our 
province  to  give  an  analysis  of  the  writings  which  com- 
prise this  literature.     For  this  we  must  refer  the  reader 

19 


WW — ■   ■■ 


20 


K/^:sUMf:   OF  LITKRARY  PROGRKSS 


Hook  IX 


to  modern  works  too  well  known  to  require  special  men- 
tion. Still  less  are  we  called  upon  to  settle  the  questions 
of  date,  autliorsliii),  and  composition  of  the  sacred  docu- 
ments whose  discussion  forms  the  staple  of  present-day 
criticism  of  the  Old  Testament.  Fortunately,  there  is 
now  general  agreement  among  scholars  as  to  at  least  the 
principal  components  of  the  body  of  the  literature  which 
was  in  the  possession  of  the  Hebrews  up  to  the  end  of 
the  seventh  century  B.C.  It  is  more  properl}'  the  duty  of 
the  historian  to  show  how  the  literature  of  the  several 
epochs  of  the  people's  history  is  an  expression  of  the 
national  life,  and  illustrates  its  progress  and  vicissitudes. 
So  far  as  most  of  the  prophetic  writings  are  concerned,  we 
have  been  able,  as  we  have  been  compelled,  to  do  this  from 
the  beginning.  They  are,  in  fact,  contemporary  histori- 
cal documents  indispensable  to  the  understanding  of  their 
times.  But  other  literary  movements,  including,  strangely 
enough,  much  of  the  so-called  historical  narrative,  do  not 
tit  in  so  readily  with  the  ascertainable  course  of  history. 
Their  relations  to  one  another  and  to  the  Old  Testament 
as  a  whole  cannot  be  understood  until  we  reach  some 
turning-point  in  the  nation's  career  with  some  great  clari- 
fying work  as  its  literary  record.  Such  a  period  is  that 
of  ^lanasseh  and  Josiah,  and  such  a  Avork  is  Deuteronomy. 
§  8G7.  In  a  sense  Israel  as  a  nation  was  never  without 
a  literature.  From  a  time  at  least  as  early  as  the  Exodus 
heroic  poems  and  popular  traditions  were  in  circidation. 
Historical  records  were  not  made  till  the  time  of  the  king- 
dom ;  and  it  was  late  in  monarchical  times  before  these 
were  systematically  compiled.  All  the  literature  that 
could  serve  the  purposes  of  a  moral  movement  was  for 
ages  based  upon  the  principles  announced  by  Moses.  It 
is  to  these  principles  that  we  must  trace  the  development 
of  a  code  of  morals  resting  upon  the  nature  and  the  claims 
of  Jehovah,  and  of  a  system  of  civil  law  in  conformity 
therewith.  But  such  productions  could  not  have  been 
highly  elaborated  apart  from  a  society  prepared  to  receive 


DOK     IX 

meu- 
jstious 
docu- 
iit-tlay 
lere  is 
ist  the 
which 
end  of 
kity  of 
several 
of   the 
itiules. 
led,  we 
lis  from 
histori- 
af  their 
fangely 
do  not 
listory. 
itament 
11  some 
,t  chiri- 
is  that 
nomy. 
[vithout 
Exodus 
[dation. 
e  king- 
these 
e  that 
Ivas  for 
les.     It 
ipment 
chiims 
formity 
[e  heen 
Ireceive 


€n.  Ill,  §  8(i8        DIFKICULIIKS   OF   TlIK    STUDY 


21 


them  and  to  put  them  in  i)ractice.  Such  a  society  was 
first  developed  througli  the  ministry  of  the  prophets.  Yet 
the  prophetic  writingsdid  not  wholly  precede  this  moral  and 
legal  literature  ;  for  the  i)rcaching  prophets  liad  a  literary 
inlluence  hefore  the  literary  pro[>hets  began  their  work. 
Such  influence  was  mainly  exerted  upon  the  priestly 
order,  out  of  whose  ranks  came  some  of  the  pro})liets. 
Under  its  auspices  miicli  of  the  book  of  Deuteronomy 
Avas  gradually  compiled  and  collated  before  its  publiea- 
tion  as  a  separate  work  ;  for  the  priests  were  practi- 
cally concerned  in  the  preservation  of  their  religion  as  a 
system,  and  for  this  a  ceremonial,  judicial,  and  etldcal 
code  was  indispensable.  What  was  essentially  new  and 
original  had  come,  however,  from  Amos  and  his  school, 
and  the-era  of  the  spiritual  empire  of  Israel  dates  from  the 
apostle  of  Tekoa,  in  whose  hands  prophecy  first  took  the 
form  of  literature. 

§  8(>8.  The  ditliculties  of  writing  a  history  of  Hebrew 
literature^  are  very  great.  Some  of  them  are  :  the  length 
of  time  covered  by  the  production  of  the  literature  ;  the 
obscurity  surrounding  the  lives  and  persons  of  the  authors  ; 
the  lack  of  obvious  relation  between  much  of  the  literature 
and  any  known  period  of  the  nation's  career  ;  our  imper- 
fect knowledge  of  much  of  the  inner  and  outer  history  of 
the  people ;  the  intellectual  interval  between  modern 
critics  and  ancient  Hebraic  writers  and  speakers,  and  still 
more  that  between  the  authors  and  the  later  Jewish  edi- 
tors and  compilers  ;  the  lack  of  literary  self-consciousness 
on  the  part  of  the  authors,  and  their  anonymousness;  their 
ignoring  of  second  causes  and  human  agencies,  leading 


1  Apart  from  the  suggestions  .iiiil  genniriiil  ideas  found  in  the  epoch- 
luaking  works  on  the  religion  and  history  of  Israel  the  most  directly 
instructive  writings  on  the  literary  history  of  the  Old  Testament  arc  W. 
K.  Smith's  OTJC,  Stade's  GVI.,  Book  I,  and  Kautzsch's  Abriss  cIpv 
(lexckichtc  di>s  alttest.  Schrifttums,  appended  to  ATU.,  and  now  trans- 
lated into  English.  An  outline  of  recent  conclusions  is  given  in  Bennett, 
Primer  of  the  Bible  (1897),  very  handy,  but  almost  too  concise. 


9mw 


22 


I'UlNCirLKS  OF   LITKHAKY   STIDY 


Book  IX 


tlit'in  to  (diiit  from  tlieir  chroiiiclo  subordiiuite  events  and 
occiisions  ;  their  (lynaniical  rather  than  ehronoh)j^i(!al  con- 
ception of  tlie  [)rocess  of  liistory,  making  it  natnral  for 
them  to  transfer  tiie  thoughts  of  one  age  or  person  to 
an()tlu'r  with  whicli  they  were  providentially  associated  ; 
their  imperfect  mechanical  methods  and  appliances,  leading 
to  errors  of  omission,  addition,  or  transposition,  and  occa- 
sioning the  combination  of  separate  compositions  on  one 
roll  of  manuscript  ;  uncritical  theories  and  principles  of 
later  scribes  and  compilers,  creating  confusion  in  the 
arrangement  of  the  books. 

§  8G9.  To  understand  the  words  and  thoughts  of 
another  age  or  peo})le  than  our  own,  we  need  knowledge 
and  intellectual  sympathy.  Modern  criticism  seeks  the 
one  while  it  cultivates  the  other.  Not  content  with  learn- 
ing what  preceding  generations  have  thought  and  asserted 
about  the  Old  Testament  writings,  we  examine  the  sources 
themselves  directly,  in  the  light  of  contemporary  move- 
ments, and  with  the  established  methods  of  historical 
research  according  to  the  well-ascertained  laws  of  mental 
and  moral,  political  and  social  evolution.  Some  of  the 
most  serious  of  the  above-named  diflliculties  may  thus 
be  overcome  as  soon  as  we  have  learned  sufficiently  the 
genius  and  bent  of  the  people,  and  the  character  of  their 
changing,  as  well  as  their  permanent  environment.  Some 
things  we  may  be  sure  of  in  their  literary  liistory  as  char- 
acterizing the  early  stages  of  the  development  of  all 
civilized  ancient  nations  ;  some  other  things  we  may  infer 
from  the  knowledge  to  be  gained  of  their  own  peculiar 
institutions.  Certain  factors  conditioning  the  course  of 
their  literature  stand  out  as  of  supreme  importance.  Such 
are  the  spirit  and  habit  of  their  nomadic  life  and  tribalism  ; 
their  ancestral  and  primitive  memories  and  traditions ; 
their  fortunes  in  war  and  migration  ;  their  religious  insti- 
tutions, especially  the  priesthood  and  prophecy,  and  above 
all  the  character  of  their  God  or  gods  ;  the  religious  and 
political  habits  and  disposition  of  the  influential  neigh- 


Cii.  Ill,  §871      LITKKAUY    CHITICISM   AND   IIISTOUV  23 

Ixmriiij^  pcopli's  ;  tlu>  character  and  aims  of  parties  or 
coinniiiiiities  within  tliu  nation  ;  the  priiicii)les  and  beliefs 
of  the  party  or  coniniunity  which  became  the  true  or  sur- 
viving- Israel  within  Israel. 

§  870.  It  would  thus  appear  that  we  liave  to  interpret 
the  Old  Testament  both  as  a  history  and  as  a  literature. 
J^iterary  criticism  is  an  adjunct  and  instrument,  almost 
a  sub-department,  of  historical  research,  because  (1)  the 
literature  is  a  product  of  the  history  ;  and  ( i!)  because 
we  need  the  results  of  literary  criticnsm  to  cheek  and  con- 
trol our  scheme  of  the  facts  of  history,  and  sometimes 
even  to  explain  the  facts  as  ascertained.  In  this  auxiliary 
use  of  literary  interpretation  it  is  of  the  lirst  importance 
that  we  know  the  characteristics  of  the  Old  Testament 
writers  and  writinj^s  :  their  mode  and  style  of  narrative 
and  description  ;  their  use  of  figures  of  speech,  especially 
of  synecdoche  and  hyperbtde  in  longer  or  shorter  passages; 
their  notions  of  time,  space,  and  number;  their  concei)tions 
of  the  worhl  and  of  events  as  related  to  human  and  exti'a- 
human  forces  and  powers  ;  their  views  of  their  own  and 
their  nation's  position  and  destiny,  of  their  relations  to 
their  (Jod,  of  life  and  duty,  of  the  state  of  the  dead  to 
whom  they  were  gathered. 

§  STl.  The  conditions  under  which  literary  composi- 
tion was  promoted  in  Israel  are  partly  general,  prevailing 
wherever  an  indigenous  literature  has  been  cultivated, 
and  partly  peculiar  to  the  genius  and  history  of  Israel 
itself.  The  former  may  be  taken  to  include  :  1.  Uni- 
versal and  necessary  factors.  These  have,  [)erhaps,  been 
best  set  forth  by  Taine  as  "  race,  enviroinnent,  and  ei)och, 
or  the  permanent  impulse,  the  given  surroundings,  and 
the  acquired  momentum."' ^  2.  Those  conditions  which 
are  found  to  have  attended  the  beginnings  of  every 
ancient  national  literature.  These  may  be  summarized 
as  follows  :   (1)  The  occurrence  in  the  young  community 


1  Litter ature  anglaise,  Intr.  §  V. 


24 


CONDITIONS  OF   A    MTKUATl  UK  :    \VUITIN(J       Hook  IX 


of  iiit'inorable  events,  such  as  victories,  deliverances,  new 
settlements,  new  social  institutions.  (2)  Stated  tril)al 
or  national  <jfatlierin^s,  Ljradually  forniinij  an  interested 
body  of  speakers  and  hearers.  (8)  The  rise  of  a  profes- 
sion or  ^uild  of  hards,  minstrels,  reciters,  narrators,  who 
]K'r[)etuate  and  give  shai)e  to  the  t  Ions  of  the  event- 

ful past.  These  conditions  liave  pre  v. ided  in  most  ancient 
nations,  and  yet  few  nations  have  given  birth  to  a  great 
or  lasting  literature  founded  ui)on  such  beginnings.  All 
depends  u[)on  the  s})ecial  conditions.  What  these  were 
in  the  case  of  Israel  will  api)ear  in  the  course  of  the 
in(]uirv.  Hut  there  is  one  factor  which  has  been  so  much 
misunderstood  and  is  of  such  prime  importance,  tJiat  it 
demands  a  separate  discussion  at  the  outset.  It  is  often 
brought  before  us  by  questions  like  these  :  When  did  the 
Hebrews  learn  the  art  of  writing?  Is  it  possible  to  trace 
tiie  conditions  under  which  the  earliest  writers  found 
their  materials  or  did  their  work  ? 

§  872.    That  the  art  of  writing  in  vogue  among 

the  Hebrews,  even  at  the  time  when  i..j  oldest  surviving 
records  were  penned,  is  very  probable,  apart  from  the 
value  of  the  direct  IJiblical  testimony.  The  notion  now 
widely  prevalent  that  it  became  known  to  them  only  after 
their  establishment  as  a  nation  is  a  hasty  assumption 
which,  however,  deserves  consideration.  In  the  first  place, 
it  has  been  held  as  a  dogma  that  the  knowledge  of  the  so- 
called  "  alphabet  "  came  to  the  Hebrews  from  the  Canaan- 
ites  (Pluenicians)  after  the  settlement  in  Palestine,  and 
these  Pluenicians  in  their  turn  are  supposed  to  have 
adapted  the  characters  from  the  Egyptian  hieroglyphics. 

§  873.  IJoth  of  these  positions  are,  however,  somewhat 
doubtful.  The  latter  in  particular  is  becoming  continually 
more  precarious.^    What  once  gave  it  almost  exclusive  cur- 


iThe  reader  has  an  opportunity  of  seeing  a  snmmary  presentation  of 
the  evidence  In  favour  of  the  Egyptian  origin  in  1)B.  under  "  Alpliabet," 
where  Mr.  Isaac  Taylor  adds  nothing  to  tlie  evidence  formerly  published 
by  himself  and  others.    Not  more  than  one-third  of  the  whole  list  of  signs 


Cii.  Ill,  §  874 


TIIK   ALIMIAUKT 


•J6 


ri'iicy  was  an  assuin[)ti()n  that  the  IMid'niciaii  lutters  must 
have  arisen  from  the  K<(yptian  :  otherwise  whence  couUl 
they  iiave  come?  Nothin<^  was  tlien  known  of  any  otlier 
ancient  system  of  writin^^  than  the  E^y{)tian,  and  it 
seemed  to  he  morally  necessary  to  derive  the  later  sys- 
tt'm  from  the  earlier.  Since  then  it  has  come  to  li^'ht, 
(1)  that  the  Eji^yptian  laiif^na^fe  and  writintj^  never  had 
any  footing  in  Asia  ;  (2)  that  the  Hahylonian  language 
and  writing  were  in  conunon  use  in  Syria  and  Palestine 
for  centurit^s  before  the  IMuenician  alphabet  was  intro- 
duced to  the  world  ;  (8)  that  at  the  time  when  cir- 
cumstances most  favoured  the  introduction  of  Egyptian 
letters  into  Western  Asia,  namely,  the  days  of  the  Egy})- 
tian  occu[)ation  of  I'alestine  and  IMio'uiciu  by  the  kings 
of  the  nineteenth  dynasty,  the  Habylonian  language  and 
writing  were  used  for  ordinary  puri)oses  in  these  coun- 
tries and  even  in  corresjjondcnce  addressed  to  Egyptians 
residing  in  Egy[)t  (§  148  ff.).  Hence,  apart  from  the 
fact  that  an  obvions  resemblance  is  lacking  between  most  of 
the  Pho'uician  letters  and  any  selected  list  of  hieroglyphs, 
no  historical  basis  existed  for  the  ado[)tion  by  Asiatics  of 
the  writing  of  the  alien  and  self-centred  Egyjitians. 

§  874.  A  survey  of  the  known  conditions  may  perhaps 
wairant  the  conjecture  that  the  "  Ph(enician  "  alphabet 
came  into  general  use  after  the  disuse  of  the  Babylonian 
script,  in  consecpience  of  the  gradual  withdrawal  of  Baby- 
lonian influence  from  the  West -land  under  the  Kasshite 
dynasty  (§  120  ff.).  It  is  probable  that  it  was  devised  in 
the  centre  of  the  western  Semites,  and  not  among  the  peo- 
ple of  the  Mediterranean  border-land,  whose  business  deal- 
ings were  mainly  with  non-Semites.  Hence  not  Plujenicia, 
but  Meso})otamia,  the  centre  of  the  land  traffic,  should  be 
looked  upon  as  tlie  region  of  its  origin.  The  great  empo- 
rium,  Charran  (§   141),  a  home  of   learned  priests,  and 

resemble  the  correspotuling  Egyptian  letters,  which,  moreover,  are  chosen 
from  forms  which  had  gone  out  of  use  long  before  the  Phoenician  charac- 
ters came  into  existence. 


PFHi 


s» 


ALIMIAHET    I'HOBAHLY   ARAM.EAN 


Book  IX 


one  of  tlie  greatest  resorts  of  travellers  and  merchants 
in  Western  Asia,  may  possibly  have  been  the  city  where 
it  was  mainly  elaborated.^ 

§  875.  Thongh  direct  evidence  is  wanting,  certain 
specitic  considerations  tell  in  behalf  of  an  Aramiean  ori- 
gin :  (1)  The  language  and  writing  of  the  Arama'ans 
took  the  place  of  the  JJabylonian  in  the  active  business 
life  of  the  whole  region  west  of  the  lower  Euphrates  and 
the  Tigris  ;  their  language  was  the  language  of  business 
and  diplomacy  (2  K.  xviii.  2(i),  as  th)  IJabylonian  had 
been.  (2)  Historically  the  common  alphabet  changed 
far  more  among  the  Araniicans  than  among  the  Plueni- 
cians.^  It  was  from  the  former  that  the  Hebrew  "  square  " 
characters  were  derived.  What  can  thus  be  traced  in 
surviving  monuments  suggests  that  before  the  earliest 
period  of  which  we  have  written  record  the  same  sort  of 
activity  went  on  among  the  Aranucans.  (-5)  In  the 
eighth  and  seventh  centuries  n.c.  the  Arama'an  language 
and  writing  were  frequently  used  in  Assyria  and  l>aby- 
lonia  along  with  the  native  cuneiform.*''      They  thus  pen- 

1  Its  f^rowtli  was  of  coui'sc  griulual,  like  every  other  system  of  conven- 
tional signs.  Its  main  motive  and  occasion  wereconinieri'ial,  but  its  com- 
plete el.aborr.tion  involved  the  art  and  skill  of  the  student,  since  it  was 
an  almost  perfi'ct  representation  of  the  north  Semitic  sounds.  Circum- 
stance.s  were  favourable  to  the  production  of  an  improved  nu'thod  of 
writing.  As  long  as  the  Babylonian  language  was  used  for  political  and 
Commercial  notes  and  correspondence,  the  cuneiform  characters  were 
employed  with  it.  Even  non-Semitic  languages  were  written  in  cunei- 
form (§  lijO,  ir)4,  'iofi).  It«  inade(iua('y  to  express  the  gutturals  nuist 
Ijave  contributed,  with  other  occasions,  to  its  abandonment  when  tlie 
Babylonian  language  was  crowded  out  of  Syria,  lirst  by  the  ilettite 
speech  and  writing,  and  later  permanently  by  the  Araiuiean. 

-  The  relative  rate  of  cliange  may  be  followed  in  Euting's  table  of  the 
Semitic  alphabet  in  Bickell's  Ililircv  (innnmnr,  tr.  by  Curtiss  (1877),  or 
in  his  latest  i)resentation  in  Zimmern's  Vcnjb ichcndc  (lr<nniii<ilik  <br 
m-mitiix'hin  S/'i'Ufhi'ii  (lS!t8).  An  excellent  exhibit  is  made  in  Slade's 
Ifi'hf.  (iramuKttik'  (\S'!i^)  in  I'late  I  appended,  where  the  course  of  the 
"western  development"  and  of  the  "eastern  development''  is  made 
plain  to  the  eye  by  auliicient  examples. 

a  See  III  K.  4(i ;  CIS.  Tart  II,  vol.  i.,  Plates  1-14,  15  ff.,  7.1  ff.  These 
inscriptions   are  found  on  the   signet-rings  of  citizens,  on  weights   in- 


Cir.  ITT,  §875       ATtGUMKXTS  FOU  THE   lIYrOTIlICSIS 


27 


lUy- 

H'U- 

>iiven- 

C'OIIl- 

was 
•cnui- 
)(l  (if 
.1  and 
were 
uiu'i- 
iiuist 
I  the 
fUite 

f  the 

■),  or 

<lrr 

tiile's 
|f  the 

Inade 

These 
iii- 


eti'.iU'il  into  the  private  and  public  life  of  the  [jcople, 
their  daily  business  anil  civic  alTairs.  The  characters  are 
practically  identical  with  the  contemporary  IMuenician. 
On  the  supposition  that  alphabet-niitkin^  began  with  the 
IMuenicians  and  spread  eastward,  it  is  not  easy  to  under- 
stand how  the  Arainicans  (who  were  in  any  case  familiar 
with  the  Babylonian  script  formerly  in  universal  use)  and 
Assyrians  with  them  shoidd  have  employed  such  a  IMkc- 
nician  al[)habet,  and  especially  that  in  their  hands  it 
sliotdd  have  diverged  so  little  from  the  Phauiician  type. 
If,  however,  the  alphabetic  system  originated  with  the 
Arama'ans,  the  facts  are  readily  explained.  (4)  The 
Arama'ans  did  most  tf)  spread  the  knowledge  of  the 
al[)h!ibct  throughout  Western  Asia.  From  the  eighth 
century  li.c.  onward  their  inscriptions  are  found  from 
Northern  Syria  to  West-central  Arabia,  and  from  I\gyi>t 
to  the  baidcs  of  the  Tigris.  This  does  not  exclude  the 
possil)ility  of  a  borrowing;  but,  taken  with  what  has 
been  said,  it  makes  it  improbable,  (o)  The  names  of  the 
letters,  as  far  as  they  can  be  understood,  point  to  their 
production  among  a  people  familiar  with  nomadic  and 
pastoral  usages.  Such  names  as  "camel"  (Gitnel), 
"  tent-pin  "  (  Wan),  "  ox  "  (Alcph  ),  and  "  ox-goad  "' 
{Lnmctiy,  would  hardly  have  been  thought  of  by  the 
maritime  PlKcnicians.  The  Aranuean  settlements  were 
everywhere  centres  of  nomadic  and  pastoral  life  and 
trallic.  (())  The  names  of  the  letters  adopted  by  the 
(ireeks  from  the  IMio-nicians  have  nearly  all  the  Ara- 
maic detinite  ending  a?     In  line,  the  historic  role  of  the 


spcctcil  liy  i)ublic  censurs,  ami  as  (hickets  to  biusiness  contracts  drawn 
up  by  clerks,     ("f.  de  VotiW'  in  CIS.  U,id.  p.  vi. 

'StaiU'.  Ilihr.  (Innniiuttik  (ls7!t),  p.  2.'),  note  7.  ob.serve.s  tliat  the 
oldest  forms  of  the  letters  Hith  and  Dulrth  correspond  to  the  .shapes  of 
the  tent  and  the  tent-opeuing  rather  than  to  those  of  a  "  Iiuiise  "  and  a 
"  house-door." 

-  It  should  be  noticed  with  reiiard  to  the  guttural  letters  n.  n,  n,  and  jr, 
chanjjed  into  Aljihn,  KfisH'm,  Eta,  and  Omikntn  respectively,  that  the 
way  must  have  been  already  prepared  for  this  transfer  by  the  pronuncia- 


mm 


28 


EARLIER  IDEOGRAPHIC   SYSTEM 


Book  IX 


Aramicans,  played  during  the  formative  era  of  the  alpha- 
bet, their  function  as  intermediaries  and  negotiators,  and 
their  geographical  distribution,  seem  to  have  predestined 
them  to  devise  a  more  fitting  medium  of  expression  and 
communication  than  that  employed  by  their  IJabylonian 
and  Ilettite  predecessors. 

§  870.  It  is  useless  to  speculate  upon  the  forms  and 
modes  of  writing  that  innnediately  preceded  the  alplyi- 
betic.  Documents  may  yet  be  unearthed  which  will 
settle  the  essential  questions.  Meanwhile,  it  is  natural 
to  assume  that  the  Aramaum  "inventors"  —  if  one  may 
use  such  a  misleading  term  —  received  suggestion  and 
stimulus  both  from  the  Ilettite  and  from  the  IJaby- 
lonian  S3'stem,  mainly  from  the  latter.  The  "inventiim," 
though  of  such  tremendous  consecpience,  was  not  in  itself 
a  very  wonderful  feat.  Its  difficulty  lias  been  exaggerated 
through  the  consideration  that  the  Egyptians  and  JJal)y- 
lonians,  peoples  more  civilized  and  literary  than  the  early 
Phienicians  or  Aramteans,  did  not  progress  from  the  ideo- 
graphic (H*  syllabic  to  a  completely  alphabetic  system. 
But  the  Egyptians  did  actually  devise  a  partial  alphabet, 
and  the  Habylonians  were  within  reach  of  it  at  any  time. 
It  may  be  said  that  if  the  decisive  transition  had  really 
been  so  sim[)le  and  obvious,  the  Egyptians  and  Haby- 
lonians  would  surely  have  made  it.  Those  who  offer  this 
plea  niiiy  be  referred  for  an  answer  to  the  opponents  of 
reform  in  English  spelling.  With  every  conceivable 
motive  to  a(U»pt  a  purely  alphabetic  method,  we  adhere 
to  a  mixed  system  somewhat  analogous  to  the  Egyptian  ^ 


tion  of  the  trading  I'lKuniciaiis  tlieinselves.  who  notoriously  dropiu'd  their 
gutturals  all  alons^  the  shore  of  the  Mediterranean.  The  popular  saying 
that  the  rhuMiicians  brought  the  alphabet  to  Greece  means  that  the 
Greeks  learned  the  alphabet  from  them  in  the  intercourse  of  trade.  How 
important  the  naming  of  the  letters  was  may  hv  inferred  from  the  fact 
tliat  the  Greeks  learned  in  addition  to  the  signs,  their  riuenician  (Ara- 
n<aic)  names. 

1  For  example,  the  spelling  though,  which  expre.sses  two  simple  sounds 
by  six  distinct  signs,  is  more  hieroglyphic  than  alphabetic. 


Ch.  Ill,  §  870 


TRANSITION   STAGE 


29 


■ally 
Jiiby- 

thls 

its  of 

iviible 

ilhere 

tiiiii  ^ 

(1  their 
saying 
lilt  tlie 

How 

lio  fact 
(Ara- 

sounds 


and  much  less  consistent  than  the  Babylonian.  It  would 
seem  that  the  business  of  simplification  could  be  done  only 
by  a  people  familiar  with  imperfect  modes  of  writing,  yet 
not  wedded  to  them  by  the  force  of  literary  tradition 
and  sacred  custom;  in  other  words,  a  people  like  the 
practical  ubiquitous  Aramasan  pupils  of  the  IJabylo- 
niaiis.^     Future  discoveries  may  lead  to  exact  inductions. ^ 

'  How  siinpii^  the  process  was  may  bo  shown  as  follows:  According  to 
the  cuneiform  system,  a  series  of  signs  were  read  and  pniuounced,  ha,  l>i, 
hu,  ah,  ih,  nh,  da,  di,  dii,  ad,  id,  nd,  and  so  forth  througli  the  consonants. 
The  Babylonians,  among  wlioin  were  ardent  grammarians,  knew  as  well 
as  we  do  that  it  was  possible  to  analyze  and  classify  the  sounds  thus 
indicated,  and  they  did,  in  fact,  represent  the  vowels  by  special  signs. 
Hut  they  did  not  go  any  farther,  even  after  the  alphabetic  Aranuean  was 
used  in  their  midst,  because  they  already  had  a  system  sufficient  for  their 
purposes,  and  sacred  to  them  as  being  the  gift  of  Nebo  (I  H. '.]!),  nr.  2,  line  4) . 
The  IJabylonian  signs  were  essentially  combinations  of  strokes  like  the 
Aranuean  and  I'luenician.  Moreover,  the  signs  had  names  given  to  them, 
as  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  also  had. 

-  The  literature  on  the  ancient  alphabet  is  large,  but  not  very  impor- 
tant. The  elaborate  treatises  for  the  most  part  maintain  an  Egyptian 
origin,  and  are  auti(iualed  through  the  fact  that  the  material  for  study 
and  comparison  has  of  late  years  greatly  increased  and  is  still  increasing. 
The  best  known  to  English  readers  is  that  of  Isaac  Taylor,  Tin'  Alpfinhi't, 
•2  vols.  1883;  notable  are  Wuttke,  Die  EiUsti'lnniij  d<v  Srhrift,  IHT'J  ; 
Lenormant.  Essai  sur  la  propanation  dc  raljtitahit  iihiniiricn  dans  Vancii'n 
hiiindfi,  1872  ;  Urugsch.  Uchcr  Bildumj  und  EntunvkidKuij dcr  Srhrift,  18(!S  ; 
Berger.  Jlistoirc  dr  rerrititrt'  dans  Vantiiinitr,  18i»l.  A  good  statement  of 
the  history  of  opinion  is  given  by  Stade,  Ilihr.  (irainmatik  (1S79),  p.  23  ff., 
cf.  Nowack,  HA.  I,  270  ff. ;  and  (more  independent)  Henzinger,  HA. 
p.  278  ff.  Deecke  (DZMG.  xxxi.  107  ff.)  proiuninded  the  hypothesi-s 
that  the  St'mitic  alphabet  was  derived  from  the  cuneiform  Assyrian.  It 
was  impossible  for  him,  however,  to  demonstrate  the  transition  stages, 
and  the  historical  considerations  were  not  fully  available  even  as  late  as 
1^77.  Stade  {I.e.),  who  rightly  observes  that  the  old  Habylonian  is  to  be 
thought  of  in  any  ca.se  rather  than  the  Assyrian  type  of  cuneiform  script, 
objects  to  the  theory  generally  upon  the  following  plea  among  others: 
"that  in  the  older  time  the  Semitic  peoples  had  much  more  active, 
friendly  iutercour.se  with  Egypt  than  wilii  the  lands  of  the  Tigris  and 
Euphrates."  This  odd  remark  is  repeated  by  Nowack  in  a  slightly  alteretl 
form  (p.  282).  Honunel,  GHA.  p.  oO  ff.,  adduces  .strong  arguments  for 
the  view  that  the  Senutic  alpliabet  is  of  Habylonian  origin.  Meyer 
((iA.  §  107)  thinks  that  the  Hettilo  writing  had  a  decisive  influence 
upon  the  system.    This  is  doubtful. 


so 


WHEN   THE    HEHKEWS    LKAUNKl)   WHITING       Book  IX 


§  877.  The  other  point  involved  in  the  preliniiiiaiy 
question  of  the  nge  and  mode  of  writing  among  the 
]Ieln'ews  (cf.  §  872)  lias  to  do  with  tlie  time  when  and 
the  source  from  Avhich  the}'  derived  this  important  aid 
to  literature.  The  opinion,  now  so  generally  accepted, 
that  the  Hehrews  liad  no  acquaintance  with  the  art  until 
they  settled  in  Palestine  after  the  concpiest,  is  based  upon  a 
manifold  misconce[)tion.  Its  possibility  may  be  admitted, 
but  not  its  i)rol)ability.  This  opinion  is  thus  stated  by  a 
recent  writer  :  ^  "  If  —  and  this  is  a  matter  as  to  wliich  we 
have  no  certain  information  —  the  Israelites  during  their 
nomadic  life  in  the  desert  used  any  sort  of  writing,  this 
Avas  without  doubt  in  tlie  lowest  grade  of  development, 
tliat  is  to  say,  a  stage  in  which  no  syllable  signs,  much 
less  letters,  were  employed,  but  only  ninemotechnic  signs 
or  picture  writing,  such  as  at  the  present  day  the  IJedaAvin 
possess  (/i'(tsm),  Avith  which  the}"  brand  their  cattle,  or 
put  marks  U[)on  rocks  and  otlier  available  objects.  The 
Israelites  became  acquainted  with  alphabetic  writing,  as 
witli  civilized  life  generally,  only  when  they  came  into 
contact  with  the  Canaanites  in  the  West  Jordan  or 
possibly  in  the  East  Jordan  c(.untry."  To  the  same 
effect  another  writes  :  ^  "  When  wi  consider  that  the  old 
Hebrew  alphabet  is  identical  with  the  Ph(enician,  that 
the  Moabites  had  the  same  alphabet  as  the  Israelites,  and 


1  Hcnziiiiipr,  HA.  p.  288. 

2  Novvack,  HA.  I,  288  f.  Kautzsch  writes  more  generally  in  AJiriss 
(hr  (ii'xchiclitc  (Ics  nltlcsl.  Sclirifniiiihs  (ATU.,  Appendix),  p.  13t! :  "The 
conditions  under  wliicli  alone  a  real  litevature  can  at  any  time  arise 
—  above  all,  the  wide  extension  of  the  art  of  writing  and  rrmlinff,  a  settled 
mode  of  life  and  comparative  national  prosperity  —  did  not  exist  for 
Israel  till  toward  the  end  of  the  period  of  the  Judges  at  the  earliest,  and 
not  during  the  wilderness  journey  or  in  the  time  of  the  contiimal  struggle 
for  existence  of  the  tribes  after  the  entrance  in  Canaan."  This  judg- 
ment, perhaps  too  sweeping,  does  not  exclude  the  jisr  of  writing.  Cornill 
remarks  sensibly  {Kiiil.*  18!M3,  p.  8):  "The  Tell  el  Amarna  discoveries 
of  1887  have  opened  up  to  us  wholly  unimagined  perspectives.  In 
view  of  .such  facts,  there  is  no  ground  whatever  for  denying  to  Mo,ses 
a  knowledge  of  writing." 


Cii.  Ill,  §878 


Ol'POUTUNITY   NOT   LACKING 


31 


tliat  the  Ciinaanites  in  many  tliiiifrs  were  the  teachers  of 
the  Israelites,  it  is  natural  to  conjecture  that  the  Israelites 
learned  from  them  the  art  of  writing." 

§  878.     The  solution  of  the  problem  is  not,  however, 
such  a  simple  matter.     It  is  not  certain  that  Isi'ael  was 
never  in  Canaan  before  the  iinal  settlement.     IJut  grant- 
ing that  the  Israelites  led  wholly  a  wilderness  life  before 
the  occupation,  it  does  not  follow  that  tiicy  knew  nothing 
of  writiuij.     To  allirm  that  they  must  have  been  iLTiiorant 
of   the  art   shows  a  misconception   of   the   character   of 
ancient  Semitic  civilizatiim.     Because  the  Semites  did  not 
attain  to  such  a  culture  as  that  of  the  (ireeks,  it  has  been 
assumed  that  they  were  essentially  a  barbarous  ])eople.    The 
'•  I'ho'nician  "  letters  have  been  regarded  as  the  sole  and 
excepticmal  means  of  culture,  because  of  the  commercial 
enterprise  of  that  offshoot  of  the  race,  and  because  it  was 
from  them  that  the  Greeks  learned  the  alphabet.     Tiiis 
view  we  now  know  to  be  erroneous.     Whatever  we  may 
think  of  the  kind  and  degree  of  the  culture  of  the  ancient 
Semites,  they  seem  to  have  been  everywhere  and  at  all 
times  w'riters.     It  was  therefore  not  at  all  necessary  for 
Israel  to  have  occupied  Palestine  in  order  to  learn  this 
art.     There   is,  as  we   have  seen    (§   875),  no  evidence 
either  that  the  PlKenioians  were  the  first  to  use  the  let- 
ters called  by  their  name,  or  that  it  was  from  them  that 
tlie  other  inhabitants  of  Palestine  received  the  alphabet. 
In  any  case  the  universal  prevalence  of  writing   before 
Israel's  final  settlement  made  it  quite  possible  for  them  to 
learn  to  write,  even  apart  from  the  special  opportunities 
open  to  favoured  members  of  the  race  in  Egypt.     Wher- 
ever trade  was  carried  on  within  the  vast  region  between 
Egypt,  South  Arabia,^  and  IJabylonia,  there  accounts  were 


1  The  facts  about  the  Miiuean  kiii<JC(lnm  of  South  Arabia  and  its  trade 
U'liitioiis  nortiiward  are  not  quite  clearly  made  out.  It  is  probable  that 
this  penple,  whose  inscriptions  are  numerous,  iiad  close  commercial  rela- 
tions with  North  Arabian  tribes.  The  influence  of  Mintean  culture  and 
writing  has,  however,  been  greatly  exaggerated. 


Tfsmsw^ser 


mm 


wfrnmrntai 


32 


TESTIMONY  FROM  JUDGES 


Book  IX 


i 


oast  up,  contracts  made,  and  records  kept.  It  is  tliere- 
fore  without  warrant  that  writing  has  been  denied  to 
Israel  during  the  Mosaic  epocli. 

§  879.  But  let  us  look  at  the  question  from  another 
point  of  view.  In  the  ode  of  Deborah  (Jud.  v.)  we  have 
a  document  of  about  1120  n.c.,1  which  presupposes  writ- 
ing as  a  thing  long  established.  In  one  passage  (v.  14) 
it  is  said, 

"  From  !Machir  there  came  down  the  troop-leaclers,^ 
And  from  Zebulon  those  that  march  with  the  baton  of  the  captain."  ' 

The  names  of  the  officers,  meaning  originally  "engrav- 
ers" and  "scribes,"  taken  in  connection  with  the  whole 
of  the  splendid  poem,  throw  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  cul- 
ture of  early  Israel.  They  demonstrate  that  Hebrew  was 
the  language  of  Israel  before  the  Exodus,  for  such  a  mas- 
tery of  it  for  the  highest  literary  purposes  could  not  have 
been  aci^uired  in  a  single  generation,  at  least  not  by  a 
race  of  untutored  nomads.  The  inferences  are  of  decisive 
importance.  (1)  The  Hebrews  in  Egypt  spoke  Hebrew. 
They  could  have  learned  it  only  in  Palestine,  for  it  is 
"the  language  of  Canaan"  (Isa.  xix.  18).  (2)  Israel  in 
Egypt  was  an  exile  from  Canaan,  and  the  settlement  was 
a  return  homeward.     Placing  these  facts  along  with  the 

1  It  is  useless  to  attempt  to  make  out  a  chronoloffy  of  the  Judges  from 
the  biblical  numbers.  The  Exodus  is  now  aduutted  to  be  fixed  at  about 
1200  it.c.  —  rather  later  than  earlier  than  that  date  (§  1(57).  The  first 
inroad  of  the  tribes  into  Canaan  having  been  made  about  1100,  not  much 
more  than  a  generation  wtvs  required  to  bring  about  the  state  of  things 
described  in  Jud.  iv.  and  v. 

'■^Literally,  •' pre.scribers,  ordainers"  (cf.  Isa.  x.  1;  Prov.  viii.  15). 
Our  word  "prescribe"  has  had  an  analogous  history.  The  word  meant 
first  to  engrave,  then  to  write  down  (naturally  with  a  small  graving-tool 
or  stylus),  ami  lastly,  from  the  fact  that  regulations  were  specially  writ- 
ten down,  came  the  sen.se  of  ordaining. 

8  Literally,  "the  .scribe,"  i.e.  the  man  who  kept  the  muster-roll,  who 
was  in  this  rudimentary  nulitary  system  the  connnander  of  his  troop. 
"  The  poet  evidently  seeks  changing  expressions  for  the  often  recurring 
idea,  chiefs"  (Moore,  Commentary  on  Judyes,  1895,  p.  151). 


n-™-     •     ■••«»-**•     ^.t-f^t^  * 


Cn.  Ill,  §  881        WRITING  IS  NOT  LITERATURE 


33 


to 


>>8 


kes  from 
It  about 
hie  first 
lit  uuu'h 
thinga 


evidence  for  Hebrew  settlements  in  Canium  jibout  loOO 
ij.c.  (§  3l)9,  note),  and  the  still  later  proof  that  tiiere  was 
a  considerable  settlement  of  Hebrews  there  shortly  before 
the  Exodus,  in  the  days  of  Merneptah,i  we  reach  the  con- 
clusion that  while  the  story  of  the  patriarchal  settlement 
in  Canaan  has  a  substantial  basis,  the  account  of  the  resi- 
dence in  Egypt  and  of  the  events  till  the  occupation  is 
only  a  part  of  the  total  history. 

§  880.  The  special  matter  before  us,  however,  is  the 
early  acquaintance  of  Israel  with  the  art  of  writing,  and 
this  is  clearly  proved  by  the  history  of  the  terms  used  in 
the  above  extract.  Etymological  inference  is  sometimes 
precarious,  but  here  it  is  certain  and  unmistakable.  Writ- 
ing was  such  an  old  national  habit  among  the  speakers  of 
Hebrew  that  words  designating  it  had  taken  on  secondary 
and  ulterior  meanings,  implying  a  long  process  of  institu- 
tional development.  This  process,  however,  as  linguistic 
comparison  shows,  was  undergone  in  Canaan  and  not 
elsewhere ;  and  we  must  therefore  assume  that  Israel  par- 
took of  the  culture  of  that  country  from  the  days  of  the 
Iiabyh)nian  occupation  onwards.  There  can  therefore  be  no 
question  as  to  the  external  facilities  for  literary  composi- 
tion at  the  disposal  of  the  Hebrews  in  the  days  of  Moses. 

§  881.  The  knowledge  and  practice  of  writing,  how- 
ever, only  made  a  written  literature  possible ;  it  did  n(jt 
necessarily  imply  its  existence.  Writing,  even  alphabetic 
writing,  was  often,  perhaps  usually,  em[)loye(l  among 
ancient  Semites  by  communities  which  had  no  literature 
at  all,  since  its  motive  and  object  were  practical,  not  senti- 
mental (see  §  81)9).  On  the  other  hand,  a  literature,  or 
at  least  its  materials,  existed  usually  independently  of  and 
sometimes  previously  to  the  practice  of  writing.  The 
foregoing  discussion  has  therefore  merely  served  the  pre- 

'  According  to  the  now  famous  hymn  celebrathif;  the  power  of  that 
Phiiraoh,  and  discovered  by  Professor  Tetrie  in  18Vt5.  Near  the  end  it 
contains  tiie  line,  among  others  referring  to  his  conquests  in  Palestine, 
*'  Israel  has  been  torn  out  without  offshoot." 


34 


EAULIKST    USKS   OF    WIUTIXG 


Book  IX 


limiiuiry  though  important  end  of  helping  to  clear  the  way 
for  the  settlement  of  the  matter  in  hand  and  determinincr 
its  conditions.  We  may,  besides,  learn  by  analogy  what 
place  was  occupied  by  a  written  literature  in  the  cultural 
development  of  such  a  i)eoi)le  as  the  Hebrews.  Conclu- 
sions may  be  drawn  from  tiie  literary  monuments  of  ancient 
peoples  taken  along  with  the  ascertained  laws  or  gradations 
of  their  social  and  political  evolution. 

§  882.  The  following  summary  may  serve  to  show  the 
purposes  for  which  writing  was  employed  successively 
in  a  typical  community  of  the  ancient  East.  We  may,  I 
think,  say  that  writing  was  used  (1)  for  business  })urposes» 
such  as  trading  accounts,  notes  of  bargains  or  of  formal 
contracts,  registration  or  indentures  of  slaves  or  hired 
labourers,  the  delining  of  boundaries  and  sites  of  buildings  ; 
(2)  for  lists  of  men  liable  to  serve  in  war  or  upon  actual 
service  ;  (8)  for  civil  contracts,  trading  or  manufacturing 
rights  guaranteed  to  guilds  of  skilled  workmen,  charters  to 
privileged  tribes  or  cities;  (4)  for  family  records,  chiefly 
genealogical ;  (5)  for  songs  and  poems  of  the  deeds  of  the 
great  of  old  or  of  former  tribal  leaders;  (('»)  for  special 
statutes  based  on  legal  decisions  or  "judgments"  ;  (7)  for 
ollicial  records  usually  if  not  entirely  of  a  larger  or  smaller 
"  kingdom  "  ;  (8)  for  traditions  and  legends  running  back 
to  prehistoric  ages  connecting  the  national  history  with  the 
remotest  past. 

§  883.  The  development  of  an  actual  literature  has 
also  a  periodicity  of  its  own,  and  the  observed  progres- 
sion of  other  literatures  is  hel[)ful  for  our  study  of  the 
Hebrew.  Literature  may  be  broadly  defined  as  the  pub- 
lisiied^  productions  of  the  human  mind.  In  an  ancient 
national  literature  we  can,  of  course,  deal  only  inferen- 


1  Published,  that  is.  by  word  of  mouth  or  by  writing  or  printing.  The 
dictionary  definitions  confine  literature  to  what  is  written  or  printed. 
This  excludes  the  vast  body  of  compositions  which  preceded  and  condi- 
tioned the  Iliad  and  Odyssry,  the  Vedas,  the  old  songs  of  Israel  and  of 
every  people  that  has  developed  a  national  literature. 


Cii.  Ill,  §  885 


UTEUAUY   TEKIODS 


iiining 

J  wliat 

iltural 

!oiu-lu- 

iiK'ient 

lations 

low  the 

issively 
may,  I 

iirposes, 

'  fonual 

)r  hired 

iUUnjjfs ; 

u  actual 

acturiug 

avters  to 
,  chiefly 
Is  of  the 
r  special 

,;  (T)  for 

|r  smaller 

iug  back 

with  the 

Lure   has 
pro^res- 
ly  of  the 
[the  puh- 
iiucient 
inferen- 

Iting.  The 
|,r  printed, 
laud  condi- 
lael  and  of 


tially  witli  what  has  passed  out  of  the  sij^ht  of  men,  which 
is  in  most  if  not  in  all  instances  larger  than  what  has 
been  preserved.  Takins^  into  view  all  the  conditions  and 
the  available  evidence,  we  may  distinguish  the  successive 
stages  of  Hebrew  literature,  up  to  the  Exile,  as  follows  : 
(1 )  the  poetical  heroic  or  epic  ballad  ;  (2)  the  i)rose  heroic 
(»!■  e[)ic  narrative;  (8)  the  historical  or  national  narrative  ; 
(4)  the  oratorical  or  pro[)hetic. 

§  884.  For  modes  and  directions  of  literary  activity 
we  ar(!  thrown  back  \\\mi\  the  surviving  literature  itself. 
The  first  (piestion  is:  Are  there  among  the  extant  Ilchivw 
writings  any  which  plainly  indicate  that  they  originated 
in  the  early  days  of  the  historic  Israel?  We  have,  more- 
over, to  distinguish  between  literatnre  which  was  pro- 
moted and  maintained  by  oral  transmission,  and  that 
which  was  committed  to  writing  soon  after  its  origina- 
tion.^ In  these  days  of  critical  rearrangement  it  will  be 
a  comfort  to  many  to  be  assured  that  the  opening  chapters 
of  the  Old  Testament  are  also  the  oldest,  in  as  far  as  they 
contain  the  oldest  materials  of  Hebrew  literature. 

§  885.  Such  are  the  venerable  relics  that  are  en- 
shrined in  the  stories  of  the  creation  of  the  world  and  of 
man,  of  the  earliest  history  of  mankind,  of  the  flood,  of 
city  building,  of  Babylonian  civilization,  and  of  the  dis- 
persion of  races.  Not  all,  however,  of  the  traditions  that 
went  to  the  making  of  Gen.  i.-xi.  are  of  Ilebiew  origin. 
One  of  the  two  writers ^  who  contributed  to  our  pi-esent 

1  From  the  standpoint  of  the  historical  stiuh'iit  iiiti'llt'ctiial  ami  moral 
movements  are  of  more  importance  than  editorial  activity.  IIciicc  the 
oii^'in  of  the  various  portions  of  the  Hebrew  literatiu'c  is  of  more  concern 
to  us  than  (juestions  as  to  the  occasions  of  their  assuming  their  iircsciit  fi  inn. 

-  Since  critical  analysis  is  not  our  pri'sent  object,  and  in  any  c;i,se  estai)- 
lislied  conclusions  must  be  taken  for  granted,  I  shall  continue  to  refer  to 
tlif  documents  which  make  up  the  historical  or  historico-teiral  books  by 
t lie  usual  marks:  D  =  Douteronomist  ;  K  =  Klohist ;  11  =  Law  of  Holi- 
ness; J  =  Jehovist ;  P  =  Prie.stly  narrative.  Kxplanations  and  particu- 
lars the  educated  reader  may  find  in  Drivir's  Introduction,  or  more  readily 
ill  Bennett's  Primer  uf  the  Bible  (1897),  not  to  mention  other  well- 
known  books. 


IV  , 


3(1 


OLDKST   LITEUAHY   IlKLICS 


Book  IX 


Bible  this  introductory  Hection  (1*  or  the  priestly  iiiirriitor) 
niiiy  have  drawn  most  of  his  materials  relating  to  these 
events  directly  from  liabylonia.  These  presumably  non- 
lltibraic  elements  are  the  account  of  the  creation  of  the 
heavens  and  the  earth  (as  distinguished  from  that  of  the 
world  of  men  by  J  or  the  prophetic  narrator)  comprised 
in  (Jen.  i.  1-ii.  3,  and  the  longer  systematizing,  statistical 
account  of  the  deluge  (as  distinguished  from  the  more 
poetical  and  anthropomorphic  story  by  J)  in  (ien.  vi. 
9-22  ,  vii.  6,  11,  13-21,  24  ;  viii.  1,  3-"),  13-19.  The 
basis  of  the  remainder,  that  is  the  material  used  in  the 
narrative  of  J,  was  thus  the  oldest  genuine  Hebrew 
literature. 

§  880.  There  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt,  however, 
that,  directly  or  indirectly,  the  germinal  portions  of  both 
narratives  came  from  IJabylonia.  The  important  ques- 
tion not  easily  solved  is.  What  portion  of  these  stories 
formed  the  actual  elements  of  ancient  tradition  or,  in  the 
wide  sense,  of  Hebrew  national  literature.  We  at  once 
perceive  that  two  motives  have  been  at  work  in  the 
narrative,  the  one  aiming  to  perpetuate  the  original  mate- 
rial, more  or  less  changed  in  the  transfer  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  and  the  other  seeking  to  make  the  recital  a  vehicle 
of  the  conceptions  proper  to  the  religion  of  Israel.  It  is 
the  additions  and  modifications  made  from  the  latter 
motive  that  have  really  given  to  these  eh  ipters  the  char- 
acter of  biblical  literature,  just  as  it  is  the  poetic  and 
mytliological  setting  of  the  corresponding  Babylonian 
legends  ^  which  have  given  to  them  their  place  among  the 
world's  literary  monuments.  But  the  earliest  period  of 
religious  reflection,  such  as  is  implied  in  the  theological 
cosmogony  of  Genesis,  is  later  than  that  of  the  first  literary 
activity.       Hence  it  is  only  for  the  popular  traditional 

1  For  descriptions  and  analysis  of  the  Babylonian  creation  legends 
see  especially  Jensen,  Die  Kosnwlogie  der  liahiilonier  (1890);  Gunkel, 
Srh'dpfung  uiid  Chaos  (1805);  Delitzsch,  Das  babylonische  Weltschupf- 
ungsepos  (181H5);  and  Jastrow,  RBA.  (1898). 


Book  IX 

rnitoi) 
0  these 
ily  iion- 
L  of  the 
t  (»£  the 
inpvised 
atistieal 
lie  more 
len.   vi. 
).       The 
(I  in  the 
Hebrew 

however, 
s  of  both 
uit  qiies- 
se  stories 
or,  in  the 
at  ouee 
in   the 
nal  inate- 
mouth  to 
a  vehiele 
el.     It  is 
he  hitter 
the  char- 
letic   and 
|abyh)uiiiu 
Imoug  the 
[period  of 
]ieoh)gical 
it  literary 
Iraditional 

tion  legends 

[o);  Gunkel, 

Weltsclwpf- 


Cii.  HI,  §887   THE  CKEATION  AND  HKLUGE 


37 


eleiueiits  of  the  stories  that  we  can  ehiini  the  greatest 
anti(inity.  Moreover,  we  have  these  only  in  a  niodilied 
and  eelectic  form,  such  portions  being  seh'cted  as  h'nd 
themselves  l)est  to  the  scihenie  of  interpretation.^  Further 
lit'lp  in  the  difficult  task  of  distinguishing  the  popuhir  from 
the  theological  elements  in  tiiese  chai)ters  is  gained  by 
noting  the  points  which  the  Habylonian  and  the  Hebrew 
versions  of  the  creation  and  tlie  deluge  have  in  conunon.*'^ 
§  S87.  But  how  has  it  happened  that  th.is  unsystema- 
tized and  fragile  literary  material  liad  in  primitive  days 
such  vitality  and  persistency?  We  may  answer  this  ques- 
tion at  least  in  part :  (1)  The  subjects  of  the  traditions 
were  intensely  fascinating  to  men  of  all  grades  of  culture. 

1  So  also  in  the  Babylonian  epic,  .Jastrow,  RHA.  p.  400. 

2  It  is  unnecessary  to  show  in  detail  that  it  is  in  Babylonia  that  we 
are  to  seek  for  the  originals  of  at  least  the  principal  of  the  earliest  narra- 
tives of  Genesis,  those  of  the  creation  and  the  deluge.  Though  many 
attempts  have  been  made  to  show  close  analogies  between  the  Genesis 
story  of  the  flood  and  the  legends  or  traditions  of  many  other  peoples  in 
all  parts  of  the  world,  the  best  practieal  proof  that  these  identifications 
are  baseless  is  furnished  by  the  fact  that  no  systematic  comparison  can  be 
made  between  them,  while,  on  the  other  hanil,  scholars  of  the  highest 
eminence  since  the  era  of  George  Smitli's  '•Chakhean  Genesis"  (1875) 
have  been  busy  in  comparing  the  details  of  the  Hebrew  accounts  with 
those  of  tlie  Bfvbylonian.  Possibly  there  was  at  one  time  a  body  of 
connnon  north  Semitic  popular  traditions,  and  it  is  unfortunate  that  the 
riioMiician  legends  are  accessible  oidy  in  a  late  and  fragmentary  form. 
Apart  from  striking  resemblances  in  details  of  plot  and  incident  the 
Hebrew  and  Babylonian  accounts  are  alike  in  making  the  sinfulness  of 
men  the  occasion  of  the  deluge  and  their  destruction  its  object.  For  the 
question  of  the  Israelitish  character  of  the  Bible  tradition  as  a  wliole  the 
most  significant  facts  are  (1)  that  conclusive  evidence  points  to  Babylonia 
as  tiie  ultimate  home  of  all  the  traditions ;  (2)  that  the  narrative  of  P 
containing  elements  different  from  those  of  J  probably  owes  its  materials, 
to  tlie  post-exilic  residence  of  Israel  in  Babylonia  ;  (;!)  that  the  style  and 
plan  of  P  reveal  the  iniluence  of  Babylonian  education  ;  (4)  that  never- 
theless J,  which  was  composed  not  later  than  the  eighth  century  n.c. 
(§  !>32),  has  in  its  flood  story,  at  least,  more  resemblances  to  the  Babylon- 
ian versions  than  are  exhibited  in  the  narrative  of  P.  A  rational  recon- 
struction of  the  early  history  will  make  it  very  probable  that  the  ancestors 
of  tlie  main  stock  of  Israel  were  in  a  positiim  to  bring  with  them  from 
Babylonia  the  oldest  elements  of  the  national  literature. 


38 


rol'LLAU    roKMS;    SONG   OF    LAMKCIl         Hook  IX 


('J)  It  i.s  very  probable  that  these  traditions  were  never 
(luite  disconnected.  Kven  in  their  popuhir  form  they  very 
early  made  part  of  schemes  of  cosmolojjfy  which  gradually 
became  highly  reiined  and  elaborate  with  the  progr(;ss 
of  knowledge  and  reflection.  Thus  it  is  certain  that  the 
material  which  was  taken  over  from  the  Babylonians  by 
the  IIel)rew  writers  had  already  been  worked  up  into 
lengthy  comi)()sitions  of  wide  currency.  (iJ)  Almost  from 
the  lirst  these  traditions  were  circulated  and  transmitted 
from  generation  to  generation  in  rhythmic  or  poetic  form. 

§  888.  So  much  for  these  ideas  or  conceptions 
symboli/,('d  in  concrete  form  which  furnish  the  motive 
of  the  o[t('ning  chapters  of  the  IJible.  IJut  it  was  also 
this  poetic  shaping  and  movdding  which,  more  than  any- 
thing else,  helped  to  preserve  almost  the  exact  words  of 
other  early  compositions.  I  refer  particularly  to  memo- 
rials and  reciollections  of  tribal  or  national  achievement. 
Such  memorabilia  thus  framed  strike  the  imagination, 
and  by  reason  of  the  parallelistic  mode  of  expression  and 
the  continual  reshaj)ing  into  concise  and  telling  periods, 
sink  deep  into  the  memory. 

§  881>.  A  unique  example  is  the  song  of  Lamech,  of 
which  a  fragment  has  been  preserved  by  the  Jehovist  in 
his  earliest  narrative  of  human  fortunes  ((ien.  iv.  23,  24). 
This  mere  renuiant  paints  with  Hebraic  vividness  the 
titanic  and  pitiless  temper  of  primitive  tribalism.  IJut 
how  much  of  both  the  earlier  and  the  later  history  of 
our  race  is  summarized  in  this  earliest  war-song,  in  its 
stern  exultation  over  the  dead  and  ■  mihih  imI  focman,  in 
its  glorifying  of  revenge  as  the  1  the  joy  of  life  ! 

And  this  most  human  (  '  sin  and  death, 

and  as  new  as  the  last ;.  versa.  i"  S<  lU  or  of  Majuba, 
how  shockingly  vulgar  ai)p<';  .s  here  in  its  essential 
savagery  !  And  how  this  old  1  rbarian  of  the  song  strips 
our  militarism  of  its  gaudy  trapj)ings,  showing  i  in  its 
essence,  to  be  mere  manslaughter,  and  tenfold  ni'  umr- 
derous  than  the  vengeance  of  Cain  !     The  very         litive- 


Cii.  Ill,  §  81)1 


FIRST   HISI'OUICAI.    I'OKTUY 


:)!) 


ness  and  unconventional  frankness  of  this  old  ballad  are 
proof  of  its  remote  antitjuity.  On  this,  as  well  as  ui>(»n 
<»tIuM'  and  more  ohvioiis  grounds,  we  nnist  assign  to  it  the 
lank  of  one  of  the  oldest  extant  Hebrew  poems,  though  it 
would  be  vain  to  seek  for  the  original  author  or  even  the 
age  to  which  he  ludonged. 

§  8U0.  The  survival  of  such  a  poem  of  strife  and  vic- 
tory gives  a  suggestion  as  to  the  kind  of  coni[)osition 
which  tirst  became,  in  the  strict  sense,  literature,  irrespec- 
tively of  the  time  when  it  was  connnitted  to  writing.  It 
was  national,  or  rather  tribal,  perils  and  triumphs  that 
were  tirst  commemorated  in  enduring  verse.  The  lirst 
purely  Israelitish  poem  is  very  probably  the  song  in 
Ex.  XV.  Not  that  the  whole  poem  is  of  contem[)(U'ary 
origin,  for  important  additions  were  ai>[)arently  made  by 
the  author  of  the  work  in  which  it  is  found  (K).  The 
characteristic  portion,  however,  or  the  iirst  two-thirds  of 
the  whole,  is  genuinely  antiipie,  and  must  go  back  to 
the  earliest  period  of  the  national  existence.  Archaisms 
abound,  even  more  exceptional  than  those  of  Jud.  v. 
(§  <S1)4).  Such  are  archaic  inllectional  forms  (e.ff.  in  vs. 
2c,  5rt,  Oc),  archaic  usage  of  words  later  employeil  other- 
wise (vs.  2^>,  All,  ()6,  7a).  Equally  striking  are  the  primi- 
tive religious  coneei)tions  such  as  that  of  Jehovah  as  a 
"man  of  war"  (v.  8)  with  the  parallelism  tiiat  "'Jahwe 
is  his  name."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  not  literary  but 
historical  considerations  have  convinced  critics  that  the 
whole  poem  is  of  later  origin.  Now  that  fuller  light  is 
breaking  in  upon  the  history  of  Israel  and  its  relation  to 
the  culture  of  the  times,  a  more  conservative  attitude 
toward  such  questions  as  are  here  raised  may  be  fairly 
expected  to  prevail. 

§  891.  It  is  significant,  however,  that  for  the  period 
intervening  between  the  Exodus  and  the  close  approach 
to  the  eastern  border  of  Canaan,  there  is  little  or  no  rep- 
resentative literature.  Doubtless  a  tradition  of  many 
incidents  that  occurred  during  this   interval   was  main- 


40 


LEGISLATION  OF  SINAI 


Book  IX 


)ecl  for 


ll 


jenerations,  until  tlie  doeunieiits  were 
drawn  up  which  idealized  them  into  close  cocirdination 
with  tlie  later  relifjfious  history.  Notes  of  the  several 
stations  of  the  wilderness  journey,  of  the  eouHict 
with  Amalek,  the  ren<le7.vous  with  Jetiiro,  and  other 
decisive  events,  may  well  have  been  made  by  tlie  great 
leader  (cf.  lOx.  xvii.  14).  IJut  these  are  scarcely  the 
material  of  literary  composition.  There  is,  however,  one 
transcendent  occurrence,  of  which,  at  lirst  sight,  there 
seem  to  be  copious  literary  memorials.  The  sojourn  at 
Sinai  plays  a  more  prominent  i)art  in  the  current  theory 
of  the  deveiopment  of  the  nation  than  any  other  event 
not  excepting  the  Exodus  itself.  The  narrative  testifies 
to  the  consciousness  of  the  new  epoch  in  Uevelation.  It 
is  not  merely  that  Moses  is  here  a  legislat(tr.  That  has 
already  been  emphasized  in  Ex.  xviii.,  which  gives  a  pic- 
ture of  his  activity  true  to  the  life.  Such  a  picture, 
however,  might  be  the  later  expression  of  a  traditional 
conception,  though  none  the  less  authentic  on  that 
account.  Hut  in  the  Sinai  narrative  the  very  contents 
of  his  inspired  legislatit)n  are  given.  Of  this  whole  body 
of  commands  the  three  comixment  parts  are  strikingly 
dissimilar  to  one  another.  These  are  the  Decalogue  (Ex. 
XX.  1-17),  the  IJook  of  the  Covenant  (l*^x.  xx.  :i'}-xxiii.  l!>), 
both  in  E,  and  the  Priestly  Legislation,  giving  directions 
concerning  the  tabernacle,  the  priesthood,  sacrilices,  puri- 
fications, and  atonement,  vows  aiul  tithes  (  Ex.  xxv.-xxxi., 
XXXV. -xl.,  and  all  lA!viticus),  along  with  miscellaneous 
laws  mainly  relating  to  the  organization  of  the  tribes  in 
view  of  their  desert  journey,  thi'  duties  of  the  Levites, 
the  maintenance  of  ceremonial  })urity,  and  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  tabernacle  (\um.  i.-x.). 

yj  H[)'2.  In  the  last-named  large  and  varied  body  of 
ordinances  it  is  probable  that  some  of  the  simple  direc- 
tions relating  to  the  life  and  conduct  and  practical 
management  of  the  tribesuu'U  are  end)odie(l.  IJut  the 
whole  legislative  corpus  is  plainly  an   idealizing  system, 


Cii.  Ill,  §  8!>;J    WHAT  CAME   FROM   MOSES   HIMSELF 


•II 


,ly  .,f 
lirt'c- 
3ticjil 
tho 
stem, 


tlie  product  of  nuieli  later  diiys,  and  it  would  be  vain  to 
seek  in  it  for  literary  material  of  the  date  of  the  sojourn 
in  Sinai.  The  other  two  stand  in  closer  relation  to  the 
early  times  of  Israel.  The  chief  dilliculty  in  the  way  of 
ascribing  the  laws  of  the  JJook  of  the  C'ovenant  to  Moses 
directly  and  in  their  present  form  is  the  fact  that  they 
inii)ly  a  loncf  period  of  settled  aj^ricultural  life  with  a 
corresponding  social  and  political  development.  In  itself 
it  seems  reasonable  that  the  lawgiver  should  have  sought 
to  educate  his^  people  for  their  residence  in  Canaan  as 
actual  proprietors  of  the  soil  in  view  of  the  enormous 
moral  and  economic  dillicultics  of  such  a  social  and  indus- 
trial revolution.  And,  therefore,  there  can  be  little  <loubt 
that  the  spirit  if  not  t)ie  actual  words  of  his  teaching  per- 
vades this  most  inlluential  of  all  ancient  law-books.  The 
preceptive  portions  of  the  Decalogue,  as  distinguished 
from  the  prefatory  sentences,  wliich  are  still  further 
expanded  in  a  later  rendition  (  Deut.  v.  (j-iil),  are  Mosaic 
in  spirit  and  possibly  in  laifguage.  Thi'ir  antiipiity  is 
proved  by  the  sure  tradition  of  tiieir  inscrii)tion  on  the 
tablets  of  stone  tliat  were  placed  in  the  ark  of  the  Cove- 
nant. It  is  remarkable  that  there  is  another  decalogue 
(^VjX.  xxxiv.  1T-'2<I,  from  J)  whose  ten  enactments  contain 
l>recei)ts  found  both  in  the  Hook  of  the  Covenant  and  in 
the  Decalogue  i)roi)er.  It  is  impossiI)le  that  the  larger 
<loi!Uments  could  have  ])een  expanded  from  this  smalU'r 
one.  The  smaller  is  therefore  an  independent  seh'ction 
from  the  nvaterials  which  lay  at  tiie  basis  of  tin;  larger. 
Hence  it  brings  us  even  less  near  than  tho  Decalogue  of 
Kx.  XX.  to  the  fountain  of  tradition. 

§  H'.K}.  The  })eriod  l)etween  the  encaini)ment  at  Sinai 
and  the  final  mandi  u[)on  Canaan  is  to  be  estimated  accoi-d- 
ing  to  tlu^  principles  already  indicated.  Kxcept  probably 
in  the  names  of  the  stations,  the  scanty  materials  sui)pHed 
by  tradition  have  been  expande*!  and  modiiletj  to  answer 
to  the  idealistic  conceptions  of  a  later  age.  Hut  when  we 
como  once  more  within  the  domain  of  stirring  events,  wc 


42 


BOOK   OF    "TIIK    WARS   OF  JKllOVAII"         Book  IX 


jiro  grc'L'ted  with  outbursts  of  uatiouiil  fi'dint^  of  iiu  orioi- 
nality  aud  freshuess  that  attest  their  antiiiuity  and  genuine- 
ness. Here  again,  as  at  the  Exodus,  we  have  that  intense 
life  and  energy  of  a  connnon  struggle  and  a  conunon 
triunq)!!,  which  in  a  gifted  and  patriotic  conununity  is 
sure  to  find  expression  in  popular  song. 

§  804.  Such  are  the  fragments  of  the  poems  preserved 
by  K  (§  923  ff.)  and  contained  in  Num.  xxi.  They  are 
all  extracted  from  a  lost  work  of  the  early  days  of  the 
kingdom,  entitled  the  '•  l>ook  of  the  Wars  of  Jehovah,"  to 
which  ihe  first  is  expressl}'  assigned  (vs.  14,  lo).  It 
is  a  mere  topographical  fragment,  but  is  jjut  into  genuine 
poetic  form,  and  shows  minute  power  of  observation,  com- 
bined with  an  appreciation  of  natural  scenery  rare  and 

unexpected  : 

"  Tilt'  ilcclivity  of  tlio  vallt'vs 
liu'liuiiij;'  to  tlic  ilwcUiiij^  of  Ar 
And  leaning  upon  the  iHirdcr  of  Moab." 

This  poem  is  thus  seen  to  be  nearly  or  quite  contem- 
poraneous with  Israel's  march  along  the  region  thus 
described  ;  for  such  language  is  the  reminiscence  of  an 
eyewitness.  The  next  fragment  is  the  fammis  "Song  of 
the  Well"  (vs.  17,  18),  which  also  is  probably,  though  less 
certainly,  an  actual  reminiscentte.  The  tliird  and  longi^st 
is  not  (piitc  intelligible.  It  may,  as  Meyer  maintaius,i  have 
had  ri'fercnce  (triginally  to  a  victory  gained  by  Northein 
Israel  over  Moab,  and  have  been  transferred  by  I*]  through 
a  misunderstanding  to  the  Mosaic  period.  The  history  of 
the  first  two  fi-agments,  at  all  events,  seems  to  have  been 
as  follows.  They  were  com[»()sed  by  poets  or  minstrels 
of  the  time.  They  were  recited  by  rhapsodists  till,  at 
some  unknown  date,  j)erhai>s  in  the  time  of  David,  they, 
Avith  other  poems  of  the  early  wars  of  Israel,  were  col- 
lected into  a  "book."  Next  they  were  iufoi-porated  by 
E  into  his  historical  work,     ('haracteristic  of  their  time 


>ZATW.  I,  llJOf.  (1881J. 


hi 


Cii.  Ill,  §  800       OTIlKIl   PENTATErCIIAL   POKMS 


43 


of  production  is  the  titlo  of  the  hist  collection  of  the  period 
when  Jehovjvh  was  a  "  man  of  Avar '"  (§  8U0  ;  cf .  1  Sam. 
xviii.  17;  xxv.  28). 

§  89").  The  remaininjif  poems  and  poetic  frajj^monts 
contained  in  the  Pentateuch  liave  little  or  no  material  of 
Mosaic  times.  Tiie  prophecies  of  IJalaam  (Num.  xxiii. 
and  xxiv.)  are  of  admirable  dramatic;  effect  as  placeil  in 
the  mouth  of  a  heathen  seer  of  I'cthor ;  but  they  no 
more  lend  themselves  to  a  theory  of  literal  int('ri)retation 
than  does  the  psalm  of  Jonah,  composed  according;  to  the 
rules  of  Hebrew  rhythm  and  parallelism  in  the'"sheol" 
of  the  jjfreat  lish.  J^'hey  were,  moreover,  a  strikint*"  lesson 
to  outside  nations,  as  well  as  to  Israel,  of  the  <,'uardian 
care  of  Jehovah  over  his  own  people  in  s[)ite  of  all  the 
forces  that  threatened  to  destroy  them.  The  whole  story 
is  ihe  outcome  of  various  traditions  based  upon  an  histor- 
ical episode  (Mic.  vi.  o)  (»f  which  the  central  feature  was 
that  the  kin<^  of  Moab  unsuccessfully  appealed  to  an  alien 
soothsayer^  to  brint^  misfortune  upon  Israel  durinj^  its 
march  upon  Canaan.  The  character  of  the  poems  them- 
selves indicates  that  even  the  oldest  stratum  (xxiv. 
17-10)  can  scarcely  have  originated  before  the  time  of 
David,  wh(^  was  the  concpieror  of  both  Moab  and  l-Mom. 

§  890.  We  naturally  look  for  some  contem[)orary 
record  of  the  strni4<^le  of  Isracd  for  the  j)ossession  of 
Canaan.  lint  at  h'ast  the  earlv  history  of  that  stru''<do 
has  h'ft  no  direct  liteiary  memorial,  with  tiie  exception  of 
a  brief  jjoem  or  poetical  frai^nnent  i)laced  in  the  month  of 
.b)shua  in  connection  with  his  j^^reat  \'u  tory  over  tlu'  live 
kint^s  of  the  "  Amorites"  (.losh.  x.  12).  That  this  adju- 
ratiitn  to  the  sun  and  moon,  or  its  substance,  was  uttered 
dui'inj^'  some  noted  encounti-r  with  formidable  i-nemies  is 
ma<l''  probable  by  the  fact  that  it  was  misunderst(tod  by 
its  later  editors,  and  interpreted  to  mean  that  the  sun  and 


1  Tliut  the  narrative  is  Cdinposlte  ami  assi^is  mon'  than  one  resiilenee 
to  Balaam  is  now  jrenerally  admitted.  F<ir  details  of  criticism  see  the 
article  "  Balaam  ''  in  KB.  and  the  literature  there  cited. 


44 


SONG  f)F  DEBORAH 


Book  IX 


moon  actually  stood  still  until  the  issue  of  the  battle  was 
decided.^  According  to  the  context  of  a  later  date  the 
verse  is  taken  from  the  "  Jiook  of  Jashar"  (§  90G  f.). 

§  897.  Of  the  later  stage  of  the  conflict  with  the 
C'anaanites  a  memorial  has  been  left  which  is  at  the  same 
time  one  of  the  gems  of  all  Oriental  literature.  The 
"Song  of  Deborah"  (Jud.  v.)  is  by  many  critics 
thought  to  be  the  earliest  Hebrew  c(miposition  extant. 
Though  so  much  as  this  cannot  be  conceded,  it  will  be 
agreed  that  it  bears  more  numerous  marks  than  does  any 
sui)posed  earlier  comi)osition  of  being  the  work  of  an  eye 
or  ear  witness.  Its  relation  to  the  political  and  social 
development  of  Israel  has  already  been  dwelt  upon 
(§  47U  f.),  and  it  has  also  been  shown  (§  879)  how  it 
throws  light  upon  the  cultural  progress  of  the  people  as 
well.  From  the  ])oint  of  view  of  liter.ary  history,  it  is 
clear  that  it  obviously  cannot  be  the  tirst  important  pro- 
duction of  its  kind,  nuich  less  the  first  considerable  poem 
generally.  In  it  we  see  the  lyric  poetry  of  war  and 
patriotism  brought  to  perfection.  Its  treatment  of  the 
theme  from  so  numy  standpoints  and  wuth  reference  to 
so  numy  national  interests  is  of  itself  a  mark  of  long  ex- 

1  Tht'  iiiistivke  was  due,  in  part  at  least,  to  a  misinterpretation  of  Dn, 
wliicli  iloes  not  mean  "  stand  still,"  but  '•  be  silent,"  then  '•  cease  "  (Lam. 
ii.  18;  I's.  XXXV.  l'>),  here  naturally  to  cease  shininj;.  The  Hebrews  were 
praying  t>v  darkness,  not  for  light ;  and  the  prayer  was  answered  by  the 
coming  on  of  a  great  tempest  (v.  11).  It  may  be  added  in  support  of  thi.s 
view  (1)  that  both  .sun  and  moon  are  ajipealed  to,  of  course  as  represent- 
ing the  light-giving  forces  generally  ;  (2)  that  the  staying  of  the  moon  would 
not  ad<l  to  the  light  of  any  day,  however  nnich  prolonged;  (:>)  that  the 
appearance  of  the  moon  in  the  heavens  with  the  .sun  is  an  excejUional 
occurrevc.  We  have  to  deal  here  not  with  meteorology  or  astronomy, 
but  wits  '.lopular  poetry.  How  natural  this  metaphorical  use  of  being 
'•silent*'  is  may  be  seen -in  Samson  Aijunixtes.  1.  80-b8  : 

"  Tlio  sun  to  mo  is  <lark 
And  silent  as  the  moon 
When  she  deserts  the  night," 

a  passage  imitated  by  Milton  from  Dante.  Tnfernn,  I.  W] :  "Where  the 
Bun  in  silence  rests,"  and  V.  30  ;  "  Where  light  was  silent  all  "  (C'ary). 


H'. 


Cii.  Ill,  §899     POETIC   TRADITION    MAINTAINED 


46 


the 


i\- 


lie 


pericnce  in  literary  composition.  Tlie  sonj^  is,  in  fact,  a 
literary  consunmiation,  like  the  poems  of  Homer.  Here 
we  may  learn  to(j  that  we  are  to  judge  of  ancient  society 
hy  what  it  has  itself  to  tell  us  of  its  possihilities  and 
aciiievements,  anil  not  according  to  criteria  drawn  from 
the  more  familiar  conditions  of  modern  life.  Thus  we 
see  thai  a  people  may  have  developed  itself  greatly  along 
certain  lines  of  art  and  reflection,  while  it  may  l)e  very 
rude  and  backward  in  other  matters  whicli  seem  to  us  to 
be  the  lirst  essentials  of  morals  and  civilization. 

§  808.  Having  learned  that  the  period  of  the  jiulges 
Avas  not  much  more  than  a  century  in  duration,  we  tind 
that  there  was  no  long  abatement  in  the  cultivation  of 
lyric  pcitry.  In  the  restless,  unsettled  times  that  inter- 
vened till  the  accession  of  David,  there  was  nothing  to 
pnn'oke  any  other  sort  of  composition,  and  in  the  events 
of  the  period  there  was  much  to  encourage  the  continu- 
ance of  an  art  and  habit  already  become  national.  Nothing 
composed  before  the  death  of  Saul  and  Jonathan  has  been 
preserved  ;  but  the  essential  thing  is  that  the  poetic  tradi- 
tion was  maintained.  Indeed,  it  was  impossible  that  it 
should  die  out  as  long  as  there  were  sacred  festal  assem- 
blies, gatherings  of  the  clans,  and  yearly  family  reunions, 
with  their  minstrels  and  l)ards.  Hence  we  cannot  consider 
David's  elegy  over  the  dead  king  and  his  much-loved  son 
(2  Sam.  i.  ll)-27)  as  anything  singular  of  its  kind.  Its 
preservation  indeed  imi)lies  that  it  was  but  one  of  a  class 
of  compositions  j)rized  and  cherished  by  the  peoj)le  at  large. 
In  a  word,  this  poem,  with  its  synunetrical  striu;ture  and 
line  sense  of  proportion,  introduces  us  to  an  established 
poetical  literature. 

§  800.  David's  lament  brings  us,  indeed,  very  near  to 
the  time  of  the  lirst  self-conscious  literary  movement, 
resulting  in  the  collecting  and  editing  of  poems  already 
current.  In  his  time  there  first  came  a  direct  provocation 
to  this  epoch-making  enterprise.  AV^e  may  explain  by 
referring  once  more  to  the  art  of  writing.     As  we  have 


4fi 


ri'BLirATION   PROMOTED 


Book  IX 


said  (§  HSl),  its  use,  oven  wlien  widely  exteiuU'd,  does  not 
iniike  a  literature,  because  literature  does  not  imply  writ- 
ing?, but  merely  cireidation.  IJusiness  doeunuMits  may 
and  usually  do  exist  nuiinly  for  individuals.  'I'liey  are 
nu're  nu'moranda,  whose  use  and  reference  lie  outside  llie 
^vI•itin<,^s  themselves.  But  the  nuiterial  of  literature, 
whether  poems  or  national  records,  has  its  interest  in 
itself.  We  are  taken  by  it  oiit  of  the  region  of  (ndcula- 
tion  and  nuitine,  into  the  world  of  sentiment  and  reflec- 
tion, from  the  outward  adjustments  of  society  to  the  move- 
ment and  expression  of  its  inner  life.  And  the  interest  in 
it  is  not  tliat  of  individuals  or  parties,  but  of  a  connnun- 
ity.  In  a  word,  literature  is  publication,  and  publication 
implies  a  public.  The  first  coiulition  then  is  that  there 
must  be  a  considerable  circle  of  peo[ile  interested  in  the 
matter  in  hand  ;  that  is  to  say,  a  circle  wider  than  and 
somewhat  ditferent  from  the  {gatherings  which  were  wont 
to  be  entertained  b>' the  reciters  of  songs  or  "sayings" 
(D-Stfen  x„,n.  xxi.  27). 

§  IMM).  How  was  such  a  public  created?  Obviously  by 
th(»se  events  Jind  ideas  which  left  the  deepest  and  most 
})ermanent  impression,  or,  in  other  words,  which  were  felt 
to  have  most  to  do  with  the  vital  interests  of  Israel. 
Whatever  conunemorated  thest;  events  and  ideas  became 
l)reci«tus  and  inalienable.  The  more  closely  the  clans  and 
tribes  were  drawn  t(»gether  and  became  animated  by  a 
common  causi'  and  a  connnon  im[)ulse,  the  more  they 
learned  to  prize  and  ding  to  the  traditions  and  monu- 
ments of  their  connnon  history.  Chief  among  these 
memorials  were  the  songs  and  stories  of  the  eventful 
j)ast,  and  it  is  to  what  was  inspiring  in  them,  by  being 
genuinely  and  passionately  Israelitish,  that  their  [)rescrva- 
tion  was  due.  They  were  thus  at  once  bonds  and  sym- 
b(»ls  of  a  growing  nationality.  Hut  as  long  as  there  was 
division  of  interest  or  action,  with  a  multij)licity  of  sanc- 
tuaries and  other  trysting  i)hiees,  po[)ular  tales  and  poems 
were   not  apt  to  circulate  widely  and  thus  become   the 


Cii.  Ill,  §  002 


riiOFKSSIOXAL   SCRIBKS 


47 


ul 
I"" 


enmnion  property  of  iiuiiiy  pe<»ple.  IK'iice  it  was  tliat 
only  what  was  stron<^ust  and  In-st,  and  but  litllc  of  tlial, 
survived  the  strife  and  separation  of  the  days  of  the 
iudijes  or  the  unsettlenjent  and  confusion  of  the  transi- 
tion  period  of  the  early  inonarehy.  Hut  with  the  lon- 
suinniation  of  a  united  Israel,  ujidcr  the  sway  of  David, 
eaine  iu)t  merely  the  opportunity,  l)ut  the  inner  necessity 
of  a  publication  in  documentary  form  of  those  tra<iilions 
which  consciously  and  in  a  very  real  scnst^  juslilital  the 
claim  of  Israel  to  be  the  chosen  people  of  Jehovah. 

§  !K)1.  Add  to  this  that  in  David's  time  there  was 
introduced  the  practice  of  ollicial  and  professional  writ- 
ing which  must  have  ^n'eatly  promoted  the  collection  uf 
literary  relics.  'J'he  kin<:f's  secretaries  now  for  the  lirst 
time  re<(istered  contemporary  events  of  national  siifuili- 
cance  (§  oil).  What  more  natural  than  that  another 
guild  of  scribes  should  grow  up  whose  task  it  \.as  to 
engross  an«l  preserve  the  records  of  the  past?  Not  only 
so,  but  the  same  writers  would  soon  be  employed  to  nidite 
and  transcribe  the  original  utterances  of  the  singers  and 
orators  of  the  time  and  whatever  contemporary  [)roduc- 
tion  was  thought  worthy  of  preservation.  IJctween  the 
}»rofcssional  minstrel,  if  we  may  use  the  term,  and  the 
l)rofessional  chronich-r  and  poet,  there  must  needs  inter- 
vi'iie  the  professional  scribe. 

§  \H)'2.  Nor  was  there  any  lack  of  material.  A  gifted 
people  just  arrived  at  national  self-consciousness,  and  with 
an  ins[)iring  poetic  tradition  behind  it,  could  not  fail  to 
give  proof  of  its  new  attainments  and  powers,  as  the  tree 
must  attest  its  maturity  by  the  bearing  of  fi-uit.  Fresh 
subjects  suggested  themselves  as  the  themes  of  [)oetrv. 
ICvn  the  new  kingly  order  in  the  state  di'epi'ned  the 
siguilicance  of  Israel's  vocation.  Such  a  tragedy  as  the 
life  and  death  of  Saul  and  Jonathan  could  not  have  been 
enacted  before  on  any  arena  of  Israel's  history,  and  its  catas- 
trophe  must  have  moved  many  susceptible  souls  to  i»ity 
and  terror,  of  which  the  deepest  and  strongest  expressmn 


TT^SStJiCSSSmm 


48 


MTKUATUKK   AND  TIIK   NKW   MONAUCIIY      Book  I.V 


,1 


has  HUi'vived  in  David's  lament.  Then  there  were  the 
great  events  of  tiie  time,  transacted  on  a  scale  such  as 
Israel  never  knew  before  or  after  the  redemption  of  the 
land  from  the  Philistines :  the  reunion  of  all  Israel  under 
the  warrior-statesman-poet  who  had  long  been  the  hope 
of  the  nation  ;  the  submission  of  the  neighbouring  peoples  ; 
the  pronnse,  however  illusory,  of  lasting  prosju-rity  and 
peace.  And  the  very  troubles  that  dashed  the  fair  hori- 
zon with  a  gloom  that  was  never  lifted  impressed  the 
imagination  and  moved  to  utterances  of  sympathy  and 
grief.  Of  such  a  kind  was  the  rebellion  of  Absalom 
and  liis  death,  which  again  evoked  a  lament  from  David 
(2  Sam.  xviii.  3i5),  whose  distinction  it  was  to  j)ronounce 
the  most  moving  of  all  elegies  over  the  noblest  of  friends 
and  the  most  ignoble  of  sons.^ 

§  1>03.  The  mention  of  David's  elegies  suggests  culti- 
vation of  a  ty[)e  of  composition  previously  unknown.  I 
mean  that  which  dealt  witli  the  fates  of  individuals  instead 
of  the  fates  of  the  nation  or  of  the  community.  It  was 
again  the  institution  of  the  monarchy  which  prepared  the 
way  for  tliis  enrichment  of  the  literature  of  Israel  witli 
the  oldest  and  most  essential  portions  of  Judges  and 
Samuel.  Tlie  fortunes  of  no  man  less  than  a  national 
leader  could  excite  an  interest  wide  enough  to  create  for 
itself  the  public  which  is  necessary  for  a  literature.  It  is 
this  that  has  given  its  special  interest  to  the  parable  of 
Nathan  with  regard  to  the  appalling,  yet  kingly,  crime  of 
David  (2  Sam.  xii.  1  ff.).  Observe,  moreover,  how  many 
features  and  standpoints  of  interest  are  presented  in  the 
personal  history  of  David  and  his  court,  which  did  not  fail 
to  play  their  part  in  the  narratives  of  a  somewhat  later 
time,  the  prose  ei)ics  of  ancient  Israel  (§  918  f.). 

§  904.  We  can  scarcely  suppose,  however,  that  tiie 
actual  collecting  of  writings  on  any  large   scale   began 

1  Compare  also  the  pathos  of  his  poetical  lament  over  Abiier 
(2  Sam.  iii.  33  f.).  Translate  freely:  "Should  Abner  die  au  ignoble 
death  ? " 


('II.  Ill,  §  0<)5 


THK    KUA   OF   SOLOMON 


40 


tiwr 


uiitlur  David.  Collection  follows  publiciition,  and  there 
was  then  hardly  enouj^h  of  the  latter  to  suggest  the 
neeessity  of  gatiiering  up  and  arranging  the  various 
(jompositions  of  that  and  the  preceding  ages.  This  is, 
projjerly  speaking.  edit(>rial  work,  which  also  involves  a 
comparison  of  texts  and  the  addition  or  subtraction  of 
inherited  materials.  The  beginning  of  such  a  work  must 
be  assigned  to  the  more  expansive  and  leisurely  tinu;  of 
King  Solomon.  There  all  the  conditions  favourable  to 
such  an  enter[)ri.»<e  were  present.  A  new  institution  was 
tlie  temple  with  its  .services.  Everywhere  anu)ng  Semitic 
peoples  a  great  sanctuary  was  a  centre  of  intellectual 
life  and  interest.  In  Jerusalem  it  never  became  in  this 
way  what  it  was  in  Babylonia;  but  we  are  more  apt  to 
underrate  than  to  overrate  its  significance  and  that 
of  the  priests,  who  tiirough  it  became  a  guild  of  collectors 
and  conjpilers.  Yet  their  iiiHuence  was  for  a  time  less 
♦lirect  than  that  of  the  poetical  school.  Trtadition  ascribes 
to  Sohmion  himself  the  authorship  of  lyric  poems  as  well 
as  of  i)roverbs  (1  K.  v.  12,  or  liV.  iv.  32).  But  this  is 
merely  an  Oriental  way  of  saying  that  he  took  the  lead 
among  a  school  or  circle  of  poets  who  were  an  ornament 
as  well  as  an  api)endage  of  his  court,  and  by  whom  much 
of  his  own  reputed  wisdom  was  loyally  contributed.  Thus 
there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  in  the  Jerusalem  of 
his  time  there  was  much  intellectual  activity,  stimulated  by 
growing  knowledge  of  tht^  world  without,  attained  chicHy 
through  l*h(enician  and  ICgyptian  trade  and  alliance. 

§  1>0').  It  is  probable  that  st)mething  of  the  original 
thought  and  speei-h  of  this  era  has  been  preserved  to  the 
latest  times.  \Ve  have  already  alluded  to  the  nucleus  of 
the  prophecies  of  lialaam  (§  89')).  Far  more  important 
is  the  great  historical  i>oem  known  as  the  "  Blessing  of 
Jacob,"  a  survey  of  the  tribes  of  Israel  in  their  Hnal 
settlement  in  Canaan,  placed  in  the  mouth  of  tlie  patri- 
arch dying  in  Kgypt  ((ien.  xlix.).  The  description  is, 
from  a  literary  point  of  view,  (^uilc  unii^ue.     It  is  a  auik 


50 


COMIMLATION    OF    I'OKTIC   ROOKS 


Rook  IX 


of  cl»iira(t(!r  stiuly,  inasimu'li  as  it  pives  a  resuim''!  of 
tlie  aehit'viMiuMits  of  tho  rL'speotive  triWrs,  and  coniu'cts 
their  fortunes  with  their  out.stundini,'  eharaeteristiits  sev- 
erally. That  it  helonjifs  to  tho  time  of  the  undivided 
kinj^doni  is  reasonably  certain.  It  cannot  be  earlier, 
because,  while  tho  tribes  are  all  mustered  and  dealt  with 
as  individuals,  they  yet  form  one  whole,  at  peace;  with 
one  another  and  j>rosi)erous.  Moreover,  the  supremacy 
of  Judah  (vs.  8-12)  was  not  gained  till  the  time  of  David. 
It  caiuiot  be  later,  for  such  a  poem  is  inconceivable  after 
the  schism,  and  especially  after  the  outlying  tribes  had 
been  in  whole  or  in  part  lost  to  Israel.^ 

§  006.  It  is  also  probable  that  wc  owe  to  Solomon's 
scribes  the  compilation  of  the  two  bfmks  already  cited,  the 
"Hook  of  the  Wars  of  Jehovah"  and  the  *'  Hook  of  Jashar," 
the  one  being  apparently  a  collection  of  ])oems  celebrating 
the  triumphs  of  .Ichovah  the  "man  of  war"  (§  804)  as  cham- 
pion of  his  i)eopIe  Israel,  up  to  the  entrance  into  Canaan, 
and  the  other  a  selection  of  national  poems  of  more  gen- 
eral character,  comi)osed  after  that  event  ^  (§  800). 

§  007.  Tho  last  quotation  made  from  the  book  of 
Jashar  belongs  to  Solomon's  time,^  and  there  is  nothing 
of  the  sort  of  a  later  date.  The  fact  is  signilicant.  It 
is  noticeable  that  with  the  book  of  Samuel  the  poetical 
quotations  end.  The  explanation  is  that  with  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  kingdom  under  David  and  the  unification 
of  the  tribes,  the  period  of  personal  and  family  fidventure, 
the  age  of  Hebrew  romance  and  chivalry,  comes  to  an  end. 


1  Contrast  tlic  "  RlcssiiiR  of  Moses"  (Dent,  xxxiii.  ;  §  !t.']5). 

'^  "Jahhiir "'  is  an  lumoriHc  name  of  Israel,  of  which  '•.Teshnrun" 
(Num.  xxiii.  10  its  amended  ;  Dent,  xxxii.  1"».  xxxiii.  5,  *2(i ;  Isa.  xiiv.  2) 
i.s  a  diniinutive.  Rotli  words  were  of  course  orijxiiially  appellatives  :  "  tho 
upri^'ht,''  or  rather  the  '"rigiit,"  or  well  pleasing  (to  .lehovivh),  or,  which 
is  the  same  tiling  practically,  the  .successful,  victorious  one. 

*  According  to  the  Sept.  of  1  K.  viii.  6."},  which  lias  a  reference  to  the 
book  in  the  reading  iv  ffifiMtfi  ttjs  diSfis.  Tliis  has  been  conjecmred  to 
stand  for  -^r'^  -"sp  ''j;,  the  last  word  having  been  turned  into  -.'cn.  So 
Wellhauseu  in  Bleek*s  Einleitung  (4th  ed.),  p.  2'M. 


Cii.  TIT,  §  000 


OTHER  iS(n<ATi:n  pokms 


fit 


liriin 
|liv.  2) 
■the 
Iwhich 

I  to  the 

k'll  to 
So 


aiul  with  it  minstrelsy  and  rlmpsodv  (Iccline.  Hence, 
when  the  liistorieal  eoiupilers,  workiiii^  at  a  later  time, 
gave  extraets  from  these  hooks,  and  ([noted  other  frafj- 
ments  of  pojudar  souths  and  sayinj^s,  they  placed  none  of 
them  later  than  the  days  of  Solomon. 

§  WH.  liesides  the  poems  and  poetie  fragments  an<l 
sayinsjfs  ahove  noticed,  (pnte  a  nnmher  of  others  ar  i 
cpioted  in  the  earlier  canonical  hooks.  Tims  we  have 
the  tine  parahle  of  .lothani  (.hid.  ix.  7-1')),  which  itself 
contains  expressions  in  poetic  or  rhythmiir  form;  the 
lament  of  .lejihthah  (.Ind.  xi.  3'));  the  ridille  of  Samson 
and  its  pendants  (.Jnd.  xiv.  14,  IS);  his  exnltation  after 
victory  (.Ind.  xv.  1(>)  ;  the  soni,'  of  Hannah  (1  Sam.  ii. 
1-10);  Sanuiers  dennneiation  of  Kinj^  Sanl  (1  Sam.  xv. 
22-23);  the  popnlar  song  of  David's  prowess  (1  Sam. 
xviii.  7;  ef.  xxi.  11,  xxix.  5);  David's  lament  over 
Ahner  (2  Sam.  iii.  38  f.)  ;  David's  great  trinmphal  song 
(2  Sam.  xxii.  ;  ef.  l*s.  xviii.);  and  his  "last  words" 
(2  Sam.  xxiii.  1-7).* 

§  DO!).  Of  these  qnotations  some  are  obviously  gemiine  ; 
others  are  clearly  the  prodnct  of  later  times,  snch  as  tho 
song  of  Hainiah,  and  Samnel's  denunciation.  Othei's 
are  less  clearly  so,  David's  great  psalm  and  his  "last 
words."  It  is  with  reluctance  that  any  good  son  of  tho 
clmrch  relinquishes  the  l«'licf  in  Davi«lic  psalms.  liut 
many  considerations  cond)ine  to  make  such  a  belief  impos- 
sible. (1)  Those  I'salms  which  are  held  to  be  most  cer- 
tainly Davidic  show  traces  of  a  later  age.  Some  reserve 
to  David  this  same  I's.  xviii.  (2  Sam.  xxii.)  alone. 
There  is  much  in  this  sublime  poem  to  remind  us  of 
David's  s[)irit ;  but  if  the  spirit  is  David's,  tiie  words  and 
the  elaboration  are  scarcely  his.  A  theophany  worked 
out  in  detail  (vs.  7-17),  is  a  pro[)hetic  idea  (Mic.  i.  ;  Hab. 
which  David  and  his  aire  were  incomt 


■) 


ipetei 


The  self-approbation  of  vs.  Il)-2t5  is  inappropriate  to  David, 

1  Aiiil  the  sayings  of  1  iSaui.  x.  12  (xix.  24),  xxiv.  13,  and  the  obscure 
proverb  of  2  Sam.  v.  8. 


62 


QrKSTION   OF    DAVIDIC    I'SAhMS 


UooK  IX 


who  with  all  his  fiiuits  was  not  i^nionint  or  forj,'i'tfiil  of 
them.  (2)  The  Psalms  thn»ii^hout  are  not  nu'iely  relig- 
ious, but  spiritual  ;  David  was  rclijifious  but,  so  far  as  wc; 
know,  ho  was  not  spiritual.  His  habit  of  lift!  (^  !>70  ff.) 
was  unfavourablt)  to  pifty.  The  "  last  words  "  (2  Sam. 
xxiii.  1-7),  whieh  are  not  a  "psalm,"  being  too  individual 
or  autobiographical,  are  more  in  k(!ei)ing  with  David's 
character,  and  the  personal  groundwork  is  undoubtedly 
his.  It  is  touehing  in  its  na'ivetd,  and  the  unadorned 
ruggedness  of  the  style  gives  it  a  Havour  of  originality, 
in  contrast  with  the  smoothness  and  harmony  of  most  of 
the  Psalms,  which  are  the  work  of  trained  disciples  of 
various  schools.  It  may  have  received  its  present  form 
as  part  of  the  collection  which  contained  the  song  of 
Hezekiah  (Isa.  xxxviii.  10-20)  of  three  centuries  later. 
(8)  The  time  of  David  was  unfavourable  to  psalm-mak- 
ing. Even  if  "  psalms  "  were  the  natural  expression  of 
David's  soul  and  heart,  he  could  not  have  written  the 
canonical  Psalms  in  the  age  in  which  he  lived,  any  more 
than  Homer  and  his  colleagues  could  have  written  the 
Prometheua  Vincfua  or  the  Antigone.  A  great  poet, 
such  as  Davitl  was,  may  create  a  literary  style,  but  he 
cannot  create  a  literary  atmosphere,  much  less  a  world 
of  action  and  emotion  which  it  envelops.  The  ruling 
ideas  of  the  Psalms  are  such  conceptions  of  spiritual 
needs,  and  of  Jehovah's  power  to  satisfy  those  needs 
by  his  various  and  abounding  grace,  as  the  religious  peo- 
j)le  of  David's  time,  from  lack  of  education  and  experi- 
ence, could  not  have  cherished.  (4)  Tiierc  is  really  no 
biblical  tradition  to  the  effect  that  David  was  a  psalm 
writer,  the  titles  to  the  Psalms  being  unauthentic.  His- 
torically we  know  of  him  as  a  lyrical  poet  indeed,  but  as 
A  poet  of  his  time  and  circumstances,  especially  moved 
by  love  and  friendship,  and  also  as  a  minstrel  and  a 
patron  of  minstrelsy  (Amos  vi.  5). 

§  910.     The  case  would  seem  at  lirst  to  be  somewhat 
different  with  Solomon  and  the  Proverbs.     Apophthegms, 


Oil.  Ill,  §011        LITKIIARY    FAMK   OF   SOhd.MOX 


68 


later, 
-mak- 
ioii  of 
[u  the 
more 
11  the 
poet, 
ut   ho 
world 
iilin^ 
itual 
needs 
I,  peo- 
:i)eri- 
ly  no 
)salm 
Ilis- 
ut  as 
loved 
nd   a 

pwhat 
jgius. 


[♦arables,  prej:ifnant  witty  sayin«i;s,  wore  indifrenous  in 
Israel,  and  even  ajtart  from  the  (jvidence  of  the  hook  of 
Proverbs,  it  is  <loublfid  whether  any  luUional  literal ni'e 
is  so  rieh  in  sneh  ntteranees  as  is  the  liible.  This  y;ilt 
of  proverb-niakinj^  was  shared  by  several  peojiles  nioro 
or  less  nomadic  to  the  south  and  east  of  Palestine  (^rL 
I'rov.  XXX.  ami  xxxi.  and  1  K.  iv.  '10  f.  l]\'.).  whoso 
genins  mnst  liave  inlhienei'd  that  of  the  poets  and  sa,t,^'S 
of  Israel.  The  ai^e  of  Solomon  was,  however,  not  the 
time  of  the  "•  Wisdom"  school  of  j>il»lical  litcratnn',  which 
t'ond)ini'd  reli;^ions  and  ethical  earnestness  with  philo- 
sophie  rellectivcness.  No  one  of  thest;  (jnalitics  is  to 
be  expected  from  Sohmjon  and  his  collcaifnes,  who  a|)pear 
to  have  been  chietly  (listin<,niislu'd  for  pra(;tieal  saLfacity 
and  worldly  shrewilness.  Collections,  oral  and  written, 
of  wise  and  witty  observations,  of  paral)les  like  that  of 
Nathan,  and  of  fables  like  that  of  .lotliam,  wv.w  donbt- 
less  made  in  Solomon's  time;  and  the  lirst  collection  of 
proverbs  havinij^  borne  his  name,  all  snbsc(jncnt  ones,  of 
which  it  was  the  nneleus  and  the  occasion,  received  a 
similar  honour.  Vet  wt;  must  lieware  of  imajjfinint^  that 
very  many  utterances  of  Solomon  and  his  associates  have 
been  transferred  to  the  book  of  Proverbs.  The  Ili-brew 
mdnhrd  is  just  as  comprehensive  a  term  as  is  our  ''  prov- 
erb," and  not  every  miiHhal  was  religious  or  ethical  in 
its  purpose.  On  tiie  other  hand,  since  a  good  dcid  of 
Proverbs  is  non-religious  and  non-ethical,  and  so  out  of 
harmony  with  the  object  of  the  final  collection,  it  is  i)robablo 
that  some  of  the  sayings  of  this  more  secular  age  were 
borne  along  by  mouth  or  pen  to  the  latest  <lays. 

§  911.  Tliis  <listinction  between  the  secular  and  the 
religious  in  the  develo[)ment  of  Hebrew  thought  and  life 
is  fundamental  to  any  rational  conee[)tion  of  the  history 
of  biblical  literature.  The  antithesis,  as  thus  made,  is 
of  course  purely  modern  and  critical.  The  Hebrews  of 
these  times  were  not  conscious  of  it.  The  sphere  of  reli- 
gion, that  is,  of  association  with  Jehovah,  was  universal 


•^^ 


pn 


^^r 


■^ 


M 


END   OF  TIIK    I'KUIol)   oF    llKliolC    I'OKTUY     Book  IX 


within  tlie  limits  of  Isniel.  His  opLTiitioii  and  inlluence 
extended  to  every  doniiiin  of  thonglit  and  iietion.  Hence, 
Jehovidi  was  .sni»[iosed  not  merely  to  give  oracles  on  the 
outcome  of  human  enlei"[)rises:  lie  was  also  the  giver  of 
wisdom  and  of  all  the  endowments  of  the  seur,  the  i>oet, 
the  warrior,  and  the  ruler.'  A  very  sane  and  wholesome 
belief,  it  will  be  agreed;  but  the  point  now  to  be  made  is 
that  the  men  to  whom  canonical  litt'ratnre  of  a  high  spirit- 
ual order  is  ascribed  do  not  ai>j)ear  to  have  lived  within 
that  sphere  of  religious  experience  with  whiih  this  litcia- 
ture  is  (conversant.  The  time  came  at  length  when  the 
best  minds 2  in  Israel  received,  enjoyed,  and  illustrated 
the  truths  that  nouiish  the  life  of  the  spirit,  and  they 
were  the  authors  of  that  which  really  makes  the  Old  Testa- 
ment what  it  has  been  to  the  world. 

§  012.  With  the  reign  of  David  and  S(»lomon  the  first 
stage  ()f  Hebrew  literature  ri-achcs  its  close.  This  wo 
have  called  (§  SMo)  the  peiiod  of  heroic  pnetry,  or  of  the 
e{)ie  ballad.  The  reader  may  now  see  in  how  far  the  term  is 
justified.  It  will  be  observed  that  though  the  subjects  of 
the  compositions  are  somewhat  variiMJ,  they  all  fall  under 
tlie  one  head  of  hcroi(!  tradition.  IIciu;e,  also,  there  is 
here  no  artistically  developed  cpic^  like  the  Jlimi,  the 
0<l>i»»i'y,  or  the  ^JJiiflil.  Vet  ihi-rc  is  what  may  be  callc(l  a 
rudimentary  epic,  a  body  of  e[)ical  germs  and  materials, 


>  roinpiiri'  C'licyi"'.  >f>trish  liiliijinus  Uff  <///<  ;•  thr  A>/7«'(  ISltH),  ji.  |;il  f. 

'  We  (tci  Natliiin  luul  mlicr  ('niiifiiiiiDiinics  ni  l):\\ii|  jiiiil  S(iliiiiii>n  in- 
justice if  we  assiiiiic  tlint  tlit-  latter  wen-  tla>  lii;;lii'st  it'liuiniis  spirits  of 
tilt'  time.  It  cannot  liave  escaticil  attention  tiiat  I>aviit  and  Sulnnioii, 
tie  tirst  siK'cessfiii  kinirs  of  l«rael,  w.re  llie  mily  kint^s  ti>  wlmm  any 
larfje  portion  of  liie  literalnre  is  ascriiieil.  Is  not  tliis  to  lie  explaint-il  l>y 
the  fail  that  their  sncressi;  <  men  like  the  rest  of  their  kiml,  lived  in  the 
clearer  Imht  of  lustorv  ? 

'  of  the  hicher  epic  there  h  no  peniilne  specittien  in  Semitic  literatnre. 
The  (iiliiainesh  ('•Ninirod'  i  ipic  of  tiie  Milix  lonians  is  llie  nearest 
approach  to  it.  Hut  there  is  almndanre  of  tlie  hallad  epoR,  wldcli,  if  the 
artistic  Renins  had  hecii  present.  niii:lit  liave  heen  organized  into  a  coiti- 
mandin);  epic  poem.  C(.  U.  U.  Moulion,  LUoar-j  Study  <>/  thv  liible 
(1»U^),  p.  -12\)  f. 


Cii.  111.  §IM1      VITAI,    KLKMKNr    IN    KAULV    I'OKMS 


55 


clik'fly  ill  tilt'  form  of  tlie  ht'ioic  Icilliul.  There  is  tlms  a 
true  epos  in  the  eiirl'-..st  Ilelirew  liteniturc,  tliou<,'h  it  lias 
not  i>ei'ii  unitiol  iuid  coordiiialetlso  as  to  illiisliate  asini^^le 
gri!at  theme.  NVe  niay  sum  up  here  Wy  recalliii;^'  the  ehar- 
acleristii-s  of  the  literature  of  this  |»erio(L  I  iilike  that 
of  sukseijuent  staj^es,  it  was  mainly,  if  not  wholly,  einii- 
Lited  hy  word  of  mouth.  Auothci-  distinction  is  that  it 
was  very  fra^nncntary.  (^luraeteristie,  ako  is  the  cuu- 
8[)iein)us  alisiMice  in  it  of  spiritual  religion  as  j.  motive 
power  in  life  and  conduct. 

§  1>1«J.  This  last-named  distinction  would  seem  to 
mark  a  <!ardinal  defect.  .\nd  y»'t,  fiom  the  eailicst 
known  l)cginnin<^'s,  then;  was  in  llcl»rew  literature,  as  in 
the  llehrew  connuunity,  the  germ  of  the  most  powciful 
religion  which  the  world  has  felt  and  known,  an  intel- 
lectual and  moral  impulse,  a  master  idea  destined  for  the 
uplifting  and  propelling  of  the  vaee.  Sinct;  no  epoch  in 
history  or  literature  is  cut  olT  from  a  {(receding  epo«h,  ami 
no  people  dev(dii|>s  ex»'e|»t  from  itself,  the  later  Israel 
which  we  know  of  must  have  drawn  some  deep  ins|)irat  ion 
from  this  lirst  long  period  of  its  life  and  thought.  And 
that  which  we  lind  in  it,  lilful  and  spasmodic,  it  is  true, 
—  like  till!  fortum'of  the  triltcs  and  the  mition,  — and  yet 
ix  vital  and  inextinguishahic  force,  is  Israid's  sense  of 
Jehovah's  guardianship  and  of  its  own  destiny.  Hence, 
we  shall  not  go  far  astray  in  holding  the  most  preeious  of 
the  poems  and  tin!  sayings  of  the  olden  time  to  have  l»cen 
th(!  "Song  of  the  j^xodus,"  the  "Song  of  Deliorah,"  t In* 
"  ilook  of  the  Wars  of  .Iclntvah,  "  the  "Hook  cd'  Jashar," 
and  the  "  iJlcssing  of  .Faci>h.*' 

§  IM  1.  To  show  how  this  sontimcnt  sha|ie(l  itself 
towai(l."»  worthier  ends,  how  it  gradually  came  to  U-  cher- 
ished in  its  most  vitalizing  and  potential  fonn.  with  an 
tdevatingand  inspiring  view  of  Jehovah's  characier,  is  the 
task  of  tlu>  historian  of  llchiew  literature.  Ileie  it  must 
Kiillice  to  point  out  when  and  lutw  the  su(.'cessive  literaiy 
^jcriods  were   introduced.     The   next  determining  event 


nva 


' 


[fi 


TIIK     IKKM    '•  NATIONAL    M  rKKATlin:  "       Hook  IX 


wiis  the  clivision  of  the  kiiij^doni.  This  catastrophe  and 
the  [)()litieal  ('((iidition  of  the  tiine  generally  were  uiifavour- 
ahle  to  j)oeti('al  enuiposilioii.  lint  there  was  nni"!i  to 
sii}jf<,'i!st  the  enijdoyiiient  of  the  new  art  of  prose  writin;^ 
in  preservinj^  the  traditions  of  the  trikiland  national  heroes 
of  the  times  nearly  [irecedinj^. 

sj  IM').  To  appreciate  this  new  (h'veh)pnu'nt  we  nnist 
make  an  important  distin<-tion  with  rci^Mi-d  to  the  nse- 
fnl.  hut  easily  niisniKh-rstodd  term  "national"  literature. 
Whili!  th(!  whole  of  the  earlv  literature  mav  riuhtlv  he 
called  national,  the  inspiration  of  nationality  as  deriveil 
from  the  united  kint,Ml(ini  of  David  and  Sidouion  (v?  ItOO) 
was  rather  that  of  an  ideal  than  of  an  aecuinplished  fart. 
As  lias  iu'cn  shown  already  ( >5  .VJ(!  f. ),  it  was  (»nly  under 
David  that  a  real  union  of  the  trilies  was  (inieinlly  fostered, 
and  even  then  notliino-  more  was  actually  icali'".!  i!ian  a 
coiili'sceiu'e  of  the  northern  and  sonthei'ii  divisioii-  'i  (leic 
was,  indeed,  for  a  time  a  national  aspiration,  lint  as  far 
as  it  was  a  political  sentiment  it  was  an  ontijrowth  of  tlm 
pre-rci,'al  rather  than  of  the  re^'al  period.  And  after  the 
division  whatever  there  was  of  patriotic  fecliuf^was  nour- 
ished only  hy  tin*  common  worship  nf  .f»'hovah  amonof  the 
ejiildren  of  Israel,  whitdi  was  always  the  chief  unifying 
force  thronghont  llt'hrew  history. 

^  ItltJ.  Hence  we  hud  (  1  )  that  in  the  suhsecpient  lil- 
eraturi'  the  histtny  of  Israid  is  viewed  from  different 
stand[)oints,  acconling  as  the  writer  Udongs  to  the  north- 
ern or  southern  kingdom;  (:Jl)that  much  of  the  history- 
making  consists  of  reminis(;enees  of  trihal  or  sectional 
conditions;  (^i)  tiiat  when  the  undivided  kingdmn  hulks 
largely  in  thi!  literature  it  is  more  or  less  ideali/e(| ;  (4 )  that 
the  national  idea,  if  cherished  at  all,  is  cherished  hy  thosi^ 
who  are  most  coucerned  for  the  ludigion  of  .hdiovidi,  the 
(lod  of  the  whole  of  Isriiel;  (."))that  the  insistence  on 
this  idea  necessarily  involves  the  idealizing  (d'  the  king- 
dom as  it  was(»nce  united  under  David  —  huiiee  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Messianic  hope,  and  ideal. 


vn.  in.  §  S»18 


FIRST  COXSECrTIVE   I'RoSE 


57 


§  '.(IT.  We  aio  now  iiitnuliuHMl  to  tlie  first  i-onst'iuitivr 
prose  wilting  that  liiis  been  [deserved  in  the  eanonieiil 
hooks.  'I'here  can  he  litthj  «h)uht  that  the  eentral  and 
earliest  [lortion  of  the  hook  of  .Indies  (ii.  (J-xvi.)'  was 
the  pn^luct  of  a  time  not  inueh  hiter  than  the  disrnption. 
It  j^ives  an  aecount  of  the  <h'eds  of  ihi;  h)eal  rulers  who 
kept  onK'r,  in  their  several  «listriels,  between  the  time  of 
the  settlement  and  the  kingdom  (>5  IH"  tl".).  The  recol- 
lections of  their  actions  are,  for  the  most  part,  clear  and 
vivid.  'riuM'i!  is  least  adhcrt'iice  to  the  lilcial  styh'  nf 
narrative  in  the  history  of  Samson  (eh.  xiii.-\vi.  ),  which 
is  a  separate,  t'lahorate  story  of  the  pnrcly  heroic  type. 
Tliis  eircumstanct'  alone  would  sullice  to  show  that  the 
tales  were  gallicred  and  published  in  the  northern  kiuLT- 
<lom.  remote  from  tlu;  scene  of  Samson's  e\|iloiis.  lint 
the  way  in  which  .ludah  is  idsewhi-re  ignoicd,  and  is  here 
referred  to  t»nly  as  contributing  a  single  «'hampion,-  put.H 
the  matter  beyond  a  «lonbt.  W'e  may  well  suiijtose  that 
the  [Ktpular  stories  of  Davids  career,  which  were  so  greatly 
to  the  advantage  of  the  kingdom  of  .Indah,  were  matcheil 
by  the  collectors  of  traditional  tales  with  reminiscenc(!s  of 
tlu;  great  di-ctls  of  the  northern  leaders. 

y^  UlH.  That  tJie  composition  of  these  stoiies  in  their 
first  published  ftirm  is  separate(l  by  a  considerable  inter- 
val from  that  of  the  preeeding  cytde,  appears  plainly  from 
the  fact  that  they  aic  written   in  sim|>le  prose,  and  thai 


' 'riijil  is.  apiirt  fnitii  tlir  hoiiu  nf  Dclmrali  (§  ><".'T  >  ami  tlii'  |)liriusi'H 
iiiti'iiductury  to  I'iicli  Ht'Otioii,  wiili  ntlitr  adiliiiuns  liv  tli*'  hi'iiici'Diniiiiiu 
nimpilcr  (!}  l.'ti'tl ),  for  wlinsc  ai;iiii\v  litTo  s.t  Driver.  /«/»•..  .iimI  .Mnorc, 
('iiiiiini  iitiini  nil  Jiiilijis,  pp.  xix  IT.,  ami  tiic  aullitiiitiis  i|iicitcil  in  tlicsn 
wcirk.s.  .Moore  (laU*,><  ilic  oUU'r  of  tlio  two  stiiirccs,  which  he  itlniiilifH 
(after  Schrailcr,  Slade,  ami  IJiiiMc)  with . I  ami  K  rpHpt'ctivfjy.  in  tiic  lirst 
half  of  till"  ninth  ccninfy  n  c.  This  is  jirnhahly  too  late  lo  affonl  a  con- 
iicction  uiili  the  stream  of  livinu;  tradition  whieh  eompri.ses  the  narrativn 
nf  I  lie  iireater  judiies, 

-  Perhaps  the  story  of  .Samson   is  introilijced  from  the  ilesire  to  i;iv« 
Home  i»laee  (el.  iii.  :i\  )  to  the  wars  will?  the   riiili>iineH.  whiih  were  so 
important  in   Israel's  hintory,  uiul  in  whieh  the  northern  uilies  played  nO' 
v«Ty  Ui-ilin^uished  part. 


68      HEROIC   PROSK:    LIVES  OF  SAUL   AXI)   DAVID    li<ioK  IX 


the  style  is  already  tliat  of  classic  narrative  IKorew. 
f'rom  the  nature  of  the  subject  and  the  lieroic  style  gener- 
ally we  nuist,  however,  assign  this  main  part  of  Judges 
to  the  period  of  the  prose  epic  or  "heroic  prose"  (§  888). 
That  a  [trosaic  garb  was  adopted  instead  of  a  poetical  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  tige  was  prosaic.  The  land  was 
troubled;  but  it  was  not  excited,  only  perplexed  and 
balTlled.  The  old  ideals  were  shattered;  and,  especially  in 
the  northern  kingdom,  juessing  problems  of  rehabilita- 
tion and  readjustment  left  no  room  for  the  play  of  the 
genius  of  romance.  We  nitay  infer  from  the  fact  that 
tiie  song  of  Deborah  alone  is  given  in  the  i)oetic  form^ 
that  the  narratives  were  of  later  composition. 

§  1)10.  Of  kindred  style  and  origin  is  the  story  of 
David's  reign  and  his  personal  life  as  king,  which  was 
composed  in  Jerusalem,  perhaits  at  a  somewhat  later  date 
than  the  tales  of  the  judges.  This  narrative  embraces 
almost  all  of  -  Sam.  v.-vii.  and  ix.-xx.  It  is  an  extiaor- 
<linarily  faithful  and  vivid  pi<'ture  of  one  of  the  n)ost 
interesting  and  memorable  kingly  lives.  A  distinct  work 
is  the  history  (»f  Saul  (1  Sam.  ix.,  x.  1-10,  xi.,  xiii.,  xiv.). 
Some  uncertainty  bangs  over  the  time  and  [)lace  of  the 
origin  of  this  section.  Yet  the  freshness  and  naturalness 
of  the  narrative,  and  its  presentation  of  the  older  view  of 
the  establishment  of  the  kingdom,  that  it  was  a  necessa'y 
moviMuent  approved  l)y  Jehovah  (ctr.  1  Sam.  viii.  and  xii.), 
point  to  a  ('omi»;iratively  early  date.  More  doubtful  is  the 
})osition  of  the  remainder  of  the  history  of  David,  within 
which  the  Jerusalem  court  history  has  been  imbedded,  the 
whole  running  from  1  Sam.  xvi.  to  2  K.  ii.  The  refer- 
ence to  "kintrs  of  Judab"  in  1  Sam.  xxvii.  G  would  seem 


'  riif  siiyiiitts  uf  Siuiison  (Jiid.  xiv.  14,  18;  xv.  16)  are  merely  inci- 
<iriiiiil  ti>  tlu!  iiiirrativf.  Vrt  tliey  are  siiiiiiticanl  as  illustratiiii^  tiie  point 
iiiaile  above  sus  to  tiie  s|)ecial  cliaracter  of  tlie  Iraililion  aiiil  story  of 
Samson.  It  is  to  he  noted  that  it  is  only  in  tiie  old  lu-ioie  epos  that  tli 
eliaiin'tei><  speak  poetically.  So  in  tlie  wisdom  faliles  of  India,  tllilo- 
pade(;a.  I'auchataiitra,  etc.),  the  narrative  is  pro.se,  while  the  speakers  talk 
ill  veibu. 


^•^ 


Cii.  Ill,  §  920 


BOOK   OF  THE   COVENANT 


50 


to  bring  the  time  pretty  well  down  below  the  disruittion. 
It  has  also  been  argued  that  the  absenee  of  partiality  for 
either  of  the  kings  or  for  the  institution  of  the  kingdom 
points  to  a  later  period.  We  must  eontent  ourselves 
meanwhile  with  (daiming  for  the  first  half  centiiry  after 
the  sehism  the  history  of  Saul  and  tlie  Jerusalem  l>i(>g- 
raphy  of  David  as  king.  Of  somewhat  later  date  is  the 
story  of  the  fortunes  t)f  the  Ark  (I  Sam.  iv.-vi.),  een- 
tering  in  Shiloh  and  its  sanctuary,  and  composed  in 
northern  Israel. 

§  *J20.  We  have  now  to  deal  with  a  different  order  of 
com[)osition,  the  first  "Book  of  the  Covenant,"  contained 
in  Ex.  XX.  22-xxiii.  Most  critics  assign  the  work  to  the 
great  E  document  (§  02.3  fl".).  Hut  I'^  was  probably  not 
its  first  compiler:  it  bears  the  mark  of  a  prior  juridical 
codification.  Much  of  its  contents,  therefore,  is  of  older 
date,  how  old  we  cannot  say.  In  any  case  it  is  a  mistake 
to  make  the  time  of  David  the  absolute  trrmifius  a  quo  ;^ 
for  the  period  of  the  judges  was  one  in  which  the  establish- 
ing of  precedents  ("statutes")  for  new  conditions  aiul 
emergencies  was  an  absolute  necessity.  The  laws  re|)re- 
sent  the  growth  of  a  sim[de  pastoral  and  especially  agri- 
cultural jurisiirudeiu'e,  and  t]»e  abs<  nee  of  regulations 
concerning  the  s[)ecial  relations  of  city  life  show  that  the 
bulk  of  them  were  fornnilated,  or  at  least  i)raetised,  before 
the  monarchy.  Tlu'y  are  of  priceless  value,  not  simply 
for  the  legislation  itself,  but' also  for  the  proof  they  atVord 
that  Israel  was  not  a  wholly  ill-regulat(Ml  siscii'iy  under 
the  judges. 2  Now,  if  such  laws  existed  long  befori!  tlicir 
final  coni|til.ilion,  should  thcv  not  be  treati'd  like  the  hemic 
poetry  as  the  literaiy  records  of  earlier  tiittes?     No;  for 

'  As  isdiMic  by  CnniiU.  /vV///.'  :  If^iHi),  p.  C'.i. 

-Tilt'  l)(nik  of  Ju(l;xt's  is  ii  rciiiiiultT  tliiit  the  Ilfliivw  liist<>ri  ii  iiMrra- 
tivi'  is  sclcctivr  and  draiiiaticaliy  (mt'-nkled  aiid  cxtnin*'.  Critifs  liaw 
tlmu'^ht  tiiat  in  my  sketch  of  a  wcU-iip-dn  iioiisclinldfr  of  tin  lattT  ]>»«i»d 
of  the  jiidijcs  (§  50.!  ff.)  1  have  IraiisfcrnMl  to  this  Jiiuf  the  conditi'^**  <»f 
a  iatiT  ai^L'.  Ii*jt  I  av<»wcdly  chose  a  fa\  iural)le  specimen  of  las  chiss,  auti 
■his  environment  is  not  pictu.-d  in  Uie  brightest  colours. 


^Bmm 


W 


0(> 


t'OMIlINKI)    LAWS   AND    KX  IK  STATIONS        \\„„h  IV. 


laws  wrre  not  "Hlcnituie"  (cf.  §  H1»0).  They  wero  not 
jtiililisluMl  even  by  word  of  niontli  ut  the  time  ol"  tlieir 
first  ohservinee  (<*f.  §  HM:3).  They  were  eustonis,  nsiij^n's, 
prescriptions,  which  lor  iij^es  ne«;(h'(l  no  iintwaid  iiuthen- 
tication.  The  seveial  courts  which  put  ihi-ni  in  foi'ce, 
whether  of  ehUns,  jiidj^es,  or  priests  of  the  hual  sanctu- 
aries (§  4s<»  tV.  ),  were  themselves  the  eml>o(limcnl  of  hiw 
or  "<lirecti(»n,"  as  repres(;ntatives  of  .lehovah;  and  it  was 
only  somi:  hitflicr  or  widi'r  neeessity  that  led  to  tiieir 
collect  ion  and  jtultlicat  ion. 

§  It^l.  Moreover,  the  laws  are,  in  the  strict  sense,  a 
ili^fcst  or  abstract  of  the  best  rules  of  j)roce(|inv  wi'ittcn  in 
the  terse  and  l)usiness-like  f(»rm  that  bclits  an  aj^e  devoid 
of  |)reaeh(!rs  and  moralists,  and  thus  dislin^iiislu'd  fioui 
their  successor,  the  Dcuteronomic  cotle.  \v\  wc  must 
make  a  distinction.  Those  laws  that  wore  real'y  piacti- 
«'al  and  operative  «lo  not  occU[>y  lu'arly  all  of  the  document. 
There  is  at  least  one  otlier  larj^e  idemciit  comprisini^  piin- 
ciples  and  apptials  iu  the  jj^uise  of  ordinances.  Thus  we 
have  the  coiumands  not  to  wroni;  or  oppress  a  "stiauifcr  " 
(xxii.  iM  ;  cf.  ^  •">•")-),  not  to  alllict  a  widow  or  oijthan 
(v.  '2'2\  followed  by  reasons  grounded  in  the  will  (oi'  the 
character^  of  .li'hovah  (cf.  vs.  2<>  f.  );  and  these  are  not 
coilrdinate  with  the  preccdinj^  enactnn'Mts.  They  are 
rather  of  the  tone  and  spirit  of  the  lon^'  hortatory 
appi'inlix  (xxiii.  -<>-:'»;)). 

Jj  *.>'2"J.  This  coniltination  is  strikinj;.  What  does  it 
imply?  Two  ^n-iieral  explanations  aic  possii)h\  The 
obj*Mt  of  tlie  j)ublication  was  either  literary  and  educative 
or  tdsc  it  Wits  intended  us  an  anthoiitative  manual  witli 
oHicial  .sanction.  Iu  tlu;  one  case  the  compiler  and  editoi 
was  one  of  a  j^uild  oi- class  of  thinkers  and  writi-rs  imbued 
with  hiiih  |iatin)iic  and  rtdii:ious  aims.  Iu  the  other 
iNi'^e  the  inst ii,'ators  were  the  kinij;  an»t  nobles.  At  liist 
Slight  the  latter  view  is  the  more  plausiltle,  for  the  aim 
of  the  |)ublieation  seuni<^  a  |)raelical  on«*.  On  account  of 
the  ajtitarent  inllueme  of  I'-,  we  then  actuall}  thiidx  of  the 


<  11    III.  §!•:.';!       NUIIKUIA    <»K    KKLATIVK    A(il'. 


«1 


iioi'tltci'ii  kin^rildiii  ( 1^  *•*:><));  iiiul  tin;  cm  of  rccoiistnu-tiou 
iuiil  i(';i(ljustim'nt  uihKt  Oiuri  (J^  '2\'2)  srcins  <i  suiuiljle 
(HU'iisioii.'  Jiiit  a  closer  view  luakcs  {\n>  otluT  liypotlM'si.s 
s«M'ni  iiiori!  tt'iiiil»U'.  Tiikcu  as  a  wIkiIc,  tlio  work  is  too 
ailvaiUH'd  ethically  and  icli^Moiisiy  for  that  era  or  any 
proximate  date.  Makiiij^  all  due  allowance  for  the  defei- 
tive  character  of  tlm  narrative  accounts  of  these  ^.mcs,  it 
remains  certain  (cf.  5^  '.•Tl>  tV. )  that  the  reli^non  and  nmriility 
of  the  leading  njen  in  either  kingdom  were  still  helow  the 
stage  of  th(M>ry  and  pro^iagandism ;  and  the  [)ul)lication  of 
the  code  in  its  complete  f()rn\  under  their  auspices  is 
therefore  highly  iniprohable.  On  the  other  hand,  the  sen- 
timental, non-practical  sections  were  superaddt'd  for  a  [>ur 
pose.  They  are  already  beyond  the  scoi)e  and  intent  o'. 
the  effective  statutes  which,  as  lias  been  shown, ^  are 
merely  the  best  jurisprudence  of  asinj[)le,  half-[)atiiarcha 
society,  !ind  not  ne(;essarily  the  outcome  of  exceptiona 
moral  and  religious  sentiments.  In  fact,  as  will  app(>ai 
in  the  more  obvious  case  of  Deuteronomy,  the  Ohl  Testiv- 
ment  legislation  as  published  never  had  statutory  validity 
or  a  <lircctly  pra(!tical  purpose.  It  was  intended  to  con- 
nect the  highest  law  and  justice  of  tlu^  day  with  the 
fountain  of  law  and  justice,  Jehovah  the  trui' (i(»d  of  Israel. 
Ilcnce  we  have  not  y«'t  arrived  at  the  all-important  point 
where  we  can  lind  the  higher  principle  of  life  and  thought 
in  active  operation.  For  this  \\e  must  turn  to  the  two 
great  works  .1  and  K. 

§  \^'2'-\.  tl  and  I',  are  tin*  somewhat  vagina  and  mystical, 
butconvenient  di'signation  (tf  the  remains  of  two  dm  nnu-nts 
found  interwoven  with  one  another  in  the  ilexateuch. 
They  were,  when  complete,  two  histories  (to  use  the 
niodi'rn  term)  of  Isiael,  from  the  eailiest  times  till  the 
settlement  in  Canaan.  Neither  of  tliem  apin'ars  to  have 
iK'en  originally  a  single  <!omi)osition,  ami  each  of  thcni 

'  Or.  if  tho  treatise  tv  n8siKii»'(l  (Ipsm  r»»!i»i)iii»l)ly)  to  ,J  and  the  itiiiff- 
diitn  of  .liiiiaii.  we  will  iiiitiirally  tliiiik  of  tlni  rt-UauiuUou  uf  A.sa  ( 1  K.  xv.). 
^  btt  W.  K.  biuuli,  Ol'JL.- i'.  .iiou. 


62 


•'I'KOrilKTIC    mSTOKIKS,"   J   AND   K 


Hook  IX 


shows  evidence  of  growth  uiul  of  inteniiil  comhiiuitioii  and 
udjnstmcnt.  Moreover,  eueh  of  them  hiul  taken  ii[»  into 
itself,  at  least  by  the  time  it  assnnuMl  its  final  form,  some 
of  the  eompositions  already  mentioned  in  our  siirvt-y;  tlnis 
it  is  prohahly  V)  that  contains  tin;  lirst  "  liook  of  the  Cove- 
nant" just  spoken  of;  while  J  has,  among  other  things, 
the  oldest  traditions  of  Israel  and  the  rai^e  generally. 
They  were,  however,  combined  in  one  eom[ilete  and  sepa- 
rate work  (^fl  IC)  before  the  i)ublieation  of  Deuteronomy. 
They  are  marked  olT  by  striking  eharaetei-isties  from  I', 
with  which  they  have  many  t(»pics  in  connnoii.  More 
properly,  I*  is  marked  olT  plainly  from  thi-m  as  tla;  jiroduct 
of  a  dilTcrent  movement  an<l  stamped  with  the  ini[»ress  of 
a  n)nch  later  age.  .1  and  H  have  strong  nnitual  resem- 
blanci's  and,  although  prcMluettd  within  dilTcreut  environ- 
ments, are  eviih'Utly  tin;  result  of  the  same  or  ch»sely 
associated  literary  and  ndigions  impulses.  Yet  the  dif- 
ferences in  points  of  view  and  in  purpose  are  so  real  and 
important  that  no  single  term,  except  tlu;  very  general 
phrase  "pr(»[>heti(!  histories,"  has  been  devised  to  describe 
them.  This  <lesignation  distinguishes  th(;m  from  the 
priestly  document  (!*)«  smd  also  implies  that  they  were 
completed,  if  not  entirely  compiled,  in  the  age  of  the  gr(!at 
prophets,  and  embody  some  distinctively  prophetic;  ideas. 
§  t>'ii.  J,  however,  is  so  deeply  imitucd  with  the 
])rophetic  spirit  that  tlu'  name  is  sometimes  applied  to  it 
alone.  Its  chief  outwai'd  mark  is  its  nse  of  the  name 
Yahwe  (.Jehovah)  for  the  Divine  iieing  fntm  the  begin- 
ning, while  E  is  e<|ually  (consistent  in  the  emi)loyment  oi 
IClohim;  hence  the  term  Yahwistie  or  Jehovistie  applied 
to  the  docMiment  and  the  writer  as  distinguished  from 
Klohistie.  To  the  combined  history  in  the  Pentateuch 
drawn  from  .1,  IC,  and  !*,•  J  furnishes  the  most  continuous 


'  Niiturally  aullioritifs  ilifftT  with  rc<;anl  to  flu-  assiiiiiiiuMit  of  many 
iiassufifs  to  tlifir  sourrt's,  but  tlicse  paHsa;;t'H  arc  si'ldom  of  j^n'at  liMi^jlh 
or  imporlancf,  and  a  presentation  of  the  n!.sult,s  of  crilitisni  is  (|uit»'  f(•a^si- 
tle  and  wry  helpful.     A  duUilud  exhibition  by  chapter  and  verse  uf  the 


1 1'  I 


story.  There  are,  indeed,  no  iniiiortant  hreiiks  in  his  iiana- 
tive,  as  far  as  the  career  of  the  main  characters  and  of  the 
nation  as  a  whole  is  deserilu'd,  tiiou^'h  si^Miilicant  facts 
are  snpplied  by  K,  even  more  than  l>y  I',  which  hniks  so 
nnicli  more  hugely  and  deals  m(»re  with  institutions  and 
their  founders.      K,    in(k'ed,    allhoutrh   au   oriL'inal  d 


ocn- 


mcnt  of  mnnense  impoitance,  performs  m  our  present  text 
a  function  mainly  supplemcnlarv.      It  docs  not  U'c^in  till 


( 


»cn.  XV 


Its   most  valual)le  ettntriluitions  relate  to  the 


lej,nshitive  history  and  material. 

§  lt:2").  A  fairly  sjfood  idea  of  the  contents  and  spirit  of 
J  and  K  may  In;  gained  from  the  statement  of  some  (d'  tlio 
toiti(\s  (U'alt  witii  hy  each  (tf  them  exclusively.     'I'hiis  from 


J,  as  already  iii<lii'ate(l  (S  SS,*)),  we  liave  tlu;  a<-coUM 


t  of 


the  creation  of  the  wiu'ld  of  men  (as  distinguished  from 
that  of  "the  heavens  and  the  earth"  hy  I*).  Kiom  him 
alone  proceeds  the  story  of  the  prolnition  and  fall  of  "the 
man  "' and  his  "helpmeet,"  »d"  the  lirst  saciilicc,  the  lirsL 
murder,  an<l  the  career  of  Cain  and  his  descendants  (den. 
ii.  4-iv.).  To  the  aeeounts  (»f  the  I'Mood,  the  [jromise  to 
Noah,  the  national  or  racial  genealogies  ((Ji-n.  vi.-x.) 
J  and  I*  have  hoth  eontrihuti-d;  hut  the  setlh-ment  of 
Iiahyh)nia  ( x.  H-1*J)  and  the  dispersion  tlu'nce  of 
the  human  race  ((Jen.  xi.  l-'.>)  are  dcsciihcd  only  hy  .1. 
From  him,  too,  we  have  the  whole  nairative  of  the  rela- 
tions of  Ahra'iam  with  l^ot  and  the  cities  of  the  IMiiin 
((Jen.  xviii.,  xix.),  the  romantics  story  of  the  (piest  of  a 
wife  for  Isaac;  ((Jen.  xxiv.),  and  m-arly  ail  that  is  told 
of  the  earlier  life  of  Jacob  iind  Ivsau  (most  of  (Jen.  xxv.- 
xxvii.),  the  episode  of  .ludah's  family  Idstory  ((Jen. 
xxxviii.),  and  a  largi*  p(»rtion,  jtartly  duplicatt-d  with  IC, 
of  the  story  of  Joseph,  particularly  the  actions  and  eon- 


rpsjicrtivc  rontiilujtious  of  J,  K,  ami  1'  to  tin-  I't'iitatpuch  appears  in 
Ciirnill,  Einl.*  (IS'.Ml),  p.  }'t  f.  'I'lii-  iiiialysis  of  (HMicsis,  Kxudus,  iiml 
Niunlters.  with  a  (liscussiun,  is  i;iv<'ii  \>\  Driver.  Iiitr.'^  (IHUT),  pp.  14-17, 
l.'2-2l.  'j!H-.'t2.  (KMlit.  Leviticus  is  universally  jiiveri  entire  lo  T,  utid 
UdUiiag  uf  I)  .utefunuiuy  in  credited  to  any  uf  the  tliree. 


^"SBSBBK 


04 


J    AND    K   OFTICN    INSKI'AKAUM-: 


n<H>K  IX 


vcrHiitions  in  wliic.ii  JikIhIi  takcH  part.  Tlic  lllessiii^  of 
.lacul.  (di'ii.  xlix.  2--21)  was  inserted  by  .1  (§  JH)")).  In 
Kxodus,  asa  wlioK*,  J  is  Uiss  prominent  than  either  l\  or  1*. 
Me  is  most  hirpely  rej>resentt;»l  in  the  aeeonnt  of  the  pre- 
iiminaries  to  the  mii^ration  from  K^y|)t,  and  of  the  lli^^dit.' 
Hut  in  NnmlxM's,  which  is  mainly  an  institutional  and 
statistical  book,  both  J  and  E  are  overshadowed  by  1*. 
When  they  a|)[>ear  it  is  usually  ililVieult  to  distinguish  the 
parts  of  the  combined  narrative  (J  K).  From  them  come 
the  most  intert'stiny  sections  of  NundHus:  Ilobab's  j(ui<l- 
anee  of  Israel,  the  murmuring  of  the  people  at  TabtMah, 
the  a[)i)ointment  of  seventy  elders,  and  the  complaint  of 
Aaron  and  Miriam  a^^ainst  Moses  (chs.  x.  2!>-xii.)'''  and 
the  Htrictly  historical  or  narrative  portion  of  the  book 
between  tlio  departun;  from  Kadesh  Haniea  to  the  settle- 
ment of  the  two  and  a  half  triU's  east  of  the  Jordan, 
inchiding  the  extracts  fiom  ancient  poems  and  the  episode 
of  lialaam  (chs.  xx.-xxv.  ♦),  and  most  of  ch.  xxxii.)/*  In 
the  iMtok  of  Joshua,  which,  as  part  of  an  ori<(inal  Ilexa- 
teueli,  is  properly  an  appendix  to  the  Pentateuch,  and  in 
which  the  distinction  of  the  sources  is  very  dillicult  to 
make,*  J  K  is  to  Ixs  taken  as  practically  one  document, 
(!om[)rising  most  of  the  st<»ry  of  the  con(|uest  of  C^inaan 
(chs.  i.-xii.),**  while  the  account  of  its  allotment  among 
th(!  tribes  (chs.  xiii.-xxiv.)  is  chielly  the  work  of  1*. 

55  S>2r).  The  most  im[)ortant  contributions  of  K  may 
Ihj  .onnnnrily  indicate(l:  an  essi-ntial  i)ai't  of  Abraham's 
vision  of  Israel's  [tossession  of  Canaan  ((Jen.  xv.,  n(»t 
easily  si'jiarable  from  J),  the  exposJire  of  Sarah  at  (Jerar, 
the  expulsion  and  relief  of  IIaj,Mr,  the  covenant  at  lli;er- 
Hheba,    tlu;   trial   of    Abrahasn's   faith   (den.    xx.-xxii.). 


'  Sco  Im  low  f§  ()•_'(!')  wliat  is  siiiil  of  F,  in  this  ((nmfi'tioii. 
^  Cli.  xii.  is  };«'iicriilly  lliDiiulit  (n  hi-lnni;  to  K. 

*  V.U.  xxiv.  pritlmbiy  Im'1iiii','s  iiiiiiiily  (i>  .F,  iiiul  rlis.  xxi.-xxiii.  to  K. 

*  Cf.   (  nllliil.    Killl.*  i>.  W)f. 

*•  N'cry  im|iiirtaiil,  linwfvcr.  uif  tin-  DciiifniMninic  iitldilioiis.  ((impiis- 
iiig  Uiu  wliulu  uf  ch.  i.  uud  Irc^ucui  lulcr  iusici'iiuub  j  dcu  Urivci-,  ii.  104  IT. 


<'ii.  Ill,  §  \m 


("ONTKN'IS   OF    K 


ilo 


ly 
's 


.Iiii'dh's  vision  iuid  vow  ut  lii'tlu-l  ((u-n.  xxviii.  11  IT.), 
till'  Jist'iiptioii  of  ,IiiiM»l»\s  jdosjicrity  U»  tliviiu?  jH'ovidi'iuu', 
tiiu  lli^lit  of  .liifoii  iiiul  liis  wives  from  Lahiiii,  iiiid  the 
oovt!Miiiit  lKftw»'»'ii  .laiol)  and  Lal)an  (most  of  i;li.  xxxi.), 
.Fiicoh's  I'ciiiMii'iat ion  of  "stiaii^ir  ^ods."  and  liis  second 
visit  to  IW'tliel  ((Jen.  XXXV.  1-H),  and  the  death  of  Kaehel 
((ien.  XXXV.  Iti-*J0),  lai^r,;  jioilions  of  tht;  sloiy  of 
.Iosei»h,' tiaeolt's  hh-ssint;  of  hlphraim  and  Manassi-li  ( (ien. 
xlviii.),  Joseph's  formal  forj,'iveness  of  his  brethren,  and 
his  death  ((nil.  1.  l.">  IT.).  In  l''.xo(his  eomes  lirst  K's  vor- 
siou'^'of  tliu  events  h'adin<;  to  the  (h'|iarture  from  Kj^'ypt, 
apparently  restiii<r  on  a  distinct  tradition  and  enhancin<^ 
the  providential  character  of  the  deliverance  hy  emphasi/.- 
inj,'  the  feehleness  and  deiiendence  of  Israel  and  the 
lian;^hty  sternness  of  I'haraoh.  1"'^  inserts,  also,  the  son<( 
of  the  Kxodns  (^  SltO).  ||e  alone  tells  of  the  contest 
with  Amalek  (ch.  xvii.)  and  the  attempt  to  or<,Mniy.e  the 
trihes  on  an  administrative  principle  (Kx.  xviii.;  cf. 
^  ii"),'}  IT.),  lie  is  the  principal  s(Mirc(f  of  what  is  ttild 
()f  tlu!  jiiimary  Sinaitie  legislation  —  its  |)reliminaries 
(eh.  xix.),  tin"  Decalo^rue  (eh.  XX.;  i;  Sl»:i),  the  lirst  Hook 
of  the  Covenant  ( chs.  xxi.-xxiii. ;  J^  •••JO ),  tlu*  narrative  of 
tlu^  <;t)lden  calf,  and  the  appointment  of  .loshua  as  min- 
ister to  Moses  (chs.  xxxii.  1-xxxiii.  11).''  Of  I]  in 
Nnmhers  and  .loshna  enon<;h  for  onr  jiresent  pnrjxtse  has 
heen  said  in  the  last  para^'raph,  Itiit  we  nnist  not  over- 
look tln!  poetical  extracts  in  Num.  xxi.  ( };  hl»4)  or  tlu' 
"  lUessin^' of  .Moses"  in  Dent,  xxxiii.  (i;  W*'*). 


'  For  ti  skilful  i-xliihilinn  of  the  puiius  of  ililYiTiMici',  witli  a  citatinii  nf 
llic  passau'i's  assiiiiiiililf  tn  ciicli  nf  ihc  sniiri't's,  sic  |)ri\i  r.  \>]k  17    lit. 

'•^  i)('Vflci|ic(l  liy  IJaciiu  ill  Ti-ijili'  Truililinii  nf  tin  h'.rniliis  [\i<i*\).  (i>\- 
liiwiiii.'  up  iiis  artifli's  in  tiif  Jniirinil  nf  Itililinil  Lidrnfiin  ( JH'.iO-lhlt;!). 
liis  analysis  slinws  llic  aiititlicsis  Ix-iwcfii  .1  ami  K  to  lie  iiiui'ji  u'lvalfr 
tliaii  liail  Imm'Ii  supposi'tl.  .1.  for  cxniiiiil*-.  iiiaki-s  Isnicl  in  r.;:ypi  to  !iav«« 
licfii  prosperous,  socially  important,  and  nunicrons. 

•' 'I'lic  rcniaimlcr  of  this  lc::islalivc  st'dioii  (  xxxiii.  li'-xxxiv.  L'M)  is  an 
intricate  coniliination  of  .1  an<l  I''.,  except  pcrlia|>s  tlic  "  Little  Monk  of  iLu 
f'ovcnani  "  (  xxxiv.  1  l-'JSi,  wliicli  is  by  most  critics  iwsij,'nc'il  to  J. 


■^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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1.25 


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j50  

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If   ii&    12.0 


1.8 


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Sdences 
Corporation 


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66 


CHAKACTEIIISTICS  OF  J 


Book  IX 


§  927.  A  glance  at  the  passages  above  cited  will  reveal 
the  main  characteristics  of  J  and  E.  J  is  the  story  teller 
and  the  dramatist  of  the  Old  Testament.  For  vividness, 
selective  and  giaphic  skill,  and  touching  simplicity,  he 
is  unsurpassed  in  any  literature.  He  is  at  once  the  most 
realistic  and  the  most  sympathetic  of  narrators ;  witness 
the  trembling  of  Isaac,  the  cry  of  Esau  (Gen.  xxvii.  33  f.), 
and  the  appeal  of  Judah  (Gen.  xliv.  18  ft'.).  Nothing 
human  is  alien  or  repulsive  to  him  (Gen.  xxx.  14  If. ; 
xxxviii.);  and  he  is  equally  at  home  with  the  divine. 
Thus  he  is  the  most  anthropomorphic  of  Old  Testament 
writers  in  his  representations  of  the  Deity.  "  He  fashionSy 
breathes  into  man  the  breath  of  life,  plants^  places,  takes, 
sets,  brings,  closes  up,  builds,  etc.  (Gen.  ii.  7,  8,  15,  19, 
21,  22),  and  even  walks  in  the  garden  (iii.  8).  He  comes 
dotvn  to  see  the  tower  built  by  man  and  to  confound  their 
speech  (Gen.  xi.  5,  7;  so  xviii.  21;  Ex.  iii.  8),  visits 
the  earth  in  visible  form  (Gen.  xviii.,  xix.),  meets  Moses 
and  seeks  to  slay  him  (Ex.  iv.  24),  takes  off  the  chariot 
wb^iels  of  the  Egyptians  (xiv.  25)."  ^  His  moral  and 
religious  teaching  is  well  characterized  by  Dillmann:* 
"He  is  distinguished  by  the  abundance  of  choice  and 
instructive  thoughts,  of  weighty  ethical  and  religious 
truths,  whicli  he  knows  how  to  breathe  into  his  legendary 
stories,  or  rather  to  draw  from  them,  without  detracting 
from  the  poetic  flavour  and  childlike  simplicity  of  expres- 
sion which  they  carry  with  them  from  their  currency  upon 
the  lips  of  the  people.  Among  the  tlu'ee  narrators  he 
shows  the  deepest  knowledge  of  the  nature,  origin,  and 
progress  of  sin  among  mankind,  of  God's  counteracting 
Avork,  of  his  plan  of  salvation  (Gen.  iii.  15  f . ;  v.  29; 
viii.  21  f. ;  ix.  2<)  f. ;  xii.  2  f. ;  xviii.  19),  of  the  choice 
of  God's  chosen  instruments  and  their  education  towards 

1  Driver.  /«<)•."  pp.  0,  121.     The  italics  are  our  autlior's. 

^  Die  Genesis  erkliirt  (4th  ed.).  p.  xiii.  See  also  the  more  detailed 
analysis  by  Dillmaun,  in  his  Nmneri,  Dent,  und  Joaua  (1880),  p.  029  f., 
quoted  by  Driver,  p.  120. 


iiW 


wp;? 


Ch.  Ill,  §  928 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  E 


67 


faith,  obedience,  and  rightful  living,  of  the  destiny  of 
Israel  to  bring  about  the  saving  of  the  nations." 

§  928.  E  has  not  the  literary  charm  and  power  wielded 
by  J,  though  he  is  not  deficient  in  narrative  skill  (Gen. 
xxii.).  He  has  a  fondness  for  details;  uses  freely  the 
names  of  persons  and  places.  He  does  not  so  much  try 
to  tell  a  story  as  to  keep  alive  the  occasion  and  the  remem- 
brance of  beliefs  and  traditions.  Hence,  lie  is  specially 
attracted  by  the  ancient  sanctuaries,  particularl}'  tliose  of 
the  northern  kingdom,  and  at  the  same  time  gives  a  chief 
place  to  the  laws  and  customs  that  have  grown  up  under 
the  theocracy.  Thus,  while  J  is  most  deeply  concerned 
about  the  ideas  or  principles  of  Jchov.ah's  government  and 
revelation,  E  is  set  upon  exhibiting  the  various  forms  and 
modes  in  which  God  rules  and  manifests  himself  to  his 
people.  On  the  one  hand  we  have  from  him  the  history  of 
national  organization  and  legislation  (Ex.  xviii.-xxiii.), 
and  on  the  other  a  record  ot"  tlie  indirect  disclosures  of 
dreams  and  visions  of  the  night  and  voices  from  lieavcn 
(Gen.  XV. ;  xxii.  11,  lo;  xxviii.  11  ff. ;  xxxvii.  5  ff. ),  as 
contrasted  with  the  bodily  ap[)eai'ances  of  Jehovah  set 
before  us  by  J.  Though  not  so  deepl}^  imbued  with  the 
prophetic  spirit  as  J,  he  represents  the  progress  of  insti- 
tutional religion  up  to  the  highest  pre-l)euteronomic 
level.  In  his  story  of  Jacob  he  s[)eaks  of  the  patriarch 
erecting  a  pillar  as  a  Bethel  ^  or  "residence  of  God  "  ((ten. 
xxviii.  18,  22)  on  the  site  of  the  most  important  sanc- 
tuary of  the  northern  kingdom ;  yet  he  records,  also,  how 
Jacob  put  away  the  "alien  gods  "  from  his  household  ((ircn 
XXXV.  2  ff. ;  cf.  Josh.  xxiv.  14  ff.).  Abraham  is  to  him 
a  "prophet"  (Gen.  xx.  7),  though  of  a  very  unspiritual 
type;  while  in  his  sketch  of  the  career  of  Moses  the  pro- 
phetic ideal  is  more  nearly  reached  (Ex.  xxxiii.  11;  Num. 

1  Greek  /SafruXos  and  jiaiTiiXtov,  a  sacred  stone  (in  Damascius  and  oth- 
ers), came  from  Canaanitic  l'ha>nicia.  On  the  worship  of  sacred  stones, 
see  especially  ^V.  R.  Smith,  RS.'^  p.  207  ff.  The  literature  of  this  aspeca  of 
"Bethel"  is  given  in  DB.  I,  278  note. 


68 


J   A   COMPOSITE   WORK 


Book  IX 


xii.  6  ff.).     Above  all,  he  is  concerned  to  set  forth  God's 
providential  guidance  and  control  of  his  people. 

§  929.  J  is  a  composite  work.  This  is  not  the  place 
for  the  proof  of  this  position  by  a  detailed  analysis,^  but 
considerations  of  a  broader  kind  may  be  urged:  (1)  There 
is  evidence  of  divergent  views  in  J  on  matters  of  fact. 
Among  the  instances  are  the  following.  In  Gen.  ix.  18  f. 
Shem,  Ham,  and  Japhet  are  the  ancestors  of  all  succeed- 
ing mankind,  while  in  vs.  25-27  Canaan,  as  son  (or  repre- 
sentative) of  Ham,  is  cocirdinated  with  Shem  and  Japhet, 
as  the  head  of  a  distinct  people.  In  Gen.  iv.  20-22  con- 
temporaries of  the  writer  seem  to  be  descended  from  Cain- 
ites,  and  therefore  not  from  the  sole  survivors  of  the  Flood. 
This  with  the  survival  of  Nephilim  (Num.  xiii.  33,  J  E; 
cf.  Gen.  vi.  4)  seems  to  show  that  an  authority  was  used 
by  J  v/ho  did  not  take  account  of  the  destruction  by  the 
Deluge.  (2)  Such  a  startling  break  in  continuous  dis- 
course as  is  shown  in  Gen.  xxxviii.  indicates  a  direct  sec- 
ondary contributor  to  J's  narrative  of  the  patriarclis.  This 
is  not  a  case  of  the  insertion  of  older  compositions,  such  as 
those  frequently  found  in  E  or  such  as  the  Blessing  of 
Jiicob  in  J  himself.  The  material  has  been  adapted  by  the 
hand  of  the  responsible  Avriter  of  the  book.  (3)  This  in- 
stance suggests  a  more  general  observation.  The  moral  and 
sentimental  interval  between  Gen.  xxxviii.  and  the  his- 
tory of  Joseph  in  the  context  is  but  one  of  many  apparent 
literary  inconsistencies  in  the  work.  What  is  the  expla- 
nation ?  Not  merely  that  J  was  a  realistic  writer  of  wide 
human  sympathies  (§  927),  but  besides  that  the  materials 


1  See  the  resume  in  Cornill,  Einl.*  pp.  42-4(5,  tracing  tlie  brief 
history  of  the  question,  and  ef.  Kautzseh,  Ahriss,  p.  153  f.  The 
inipiiry  go  far  has  been  systematically  pursued  only  in  connection  with 
Genesis.  IMuUXe^s  Bihlisrhe  Urf/eschichtc  (188o)  has  given  the  strongest 
impulse  to  the  discussion.  See  Koiiig,  Eiiili'itung  (1893),  pp.  197-JOO, 
for  a  conservative  view.  Agreement  as  to  the  sections  and  their  limits 
has  not  been  reached.  Driver,  in  his  Tntr.  (p.  123),  scarcely  touches  the 
subject.  Tlie  question  is  one  of  importance  from  its  bearing  on  the  his- 
tory of  proplietic  ideas. 


^m 


mmmam 


Cii.  Ill,  §030     COMPOSITION    AM)   OKIUIN   OF  E 


m 


of  his  book  came  from  different  sources  in  different  regions 
of  Palestine,  and  also  from  different  ages.  It  may  be  said 
that  no  writer  would  introduce  into  his  work  wiiat  was 
not  in  harmony  with  his  own  ideals,  and  that  such  scru- 
ples, if  justified,  should  also  throw  doubt  on  the  hnal 
unity  and  completeness  of  the  work.  Not  necessarily  so; 
for  the  Old  Testament  compilers  habitually  made  use  of 
various  traditions  which  attained  a  certain  canonical 
standing  tln'ough  venerable  age  and  ancestral  associations, 
and  what  the  later  Jehovistic  circle  might  not  have 
appropriated  from  current  literature  it  ad(»pted  and  util- 
ized from  the  old.^  The  comj)osite  character  of  E, 
though  extremely  probable,  is  more  ditlicult  of  proof;  ^ 
nor  is  the  (question  of  such  biblical  importance  as  that  of 
the  composition  of  J.  It  is  understood  that  E  has  trans- 
ferred bodily  mvu^h  older  literature,  chietly  jtoetical  ami 
legislative  (§8t>4,  925  f.)  ;  but  the  narrative  portion  docs 
not  lend  itself  to  obvious  partition. 

§  1)30.  It  is  the  unanimous  opinion  of  critics  that  E  was 
composed  in  the  northern  kingdom.  The  prominence  of 
Joseph,  Ephraim,  and  Reuben  (as  contrasted  with  Judah 
in  J)  and  such  sacred  places  as  Bethel,  Siiechem,  and 
Beersheba  (cf.  Am.  v.  5  ;  viii.  14  ;  1  K.  xix.  3),  with 
many  other  indications,  point  surely  to  this  conclusion. 
Nor  can  the  approximate  time  of  composition  be  a  ques- 
tion of  much  uncertainty.  (1 )  E's  religious  position  is 
far  beyond  that  of  the  time  of  the  early  kings,  while  there 
is  no  evidence  that  the  author  had  come  under  the  influ- 
ence of  either  Amos  or  Ilosea.  Thus  the  time  would  not 
be   later   than    770-700    B.C.     (2)  The   early    turbulent 


■ik 


I 


1  This  is  little  to  be  wondered  at  when  Samson  is  cited  as  one  of  the 
ancient  worthies  even  in  the  later  New  Testament  times  (lleb.  xi.  32). 
Have  we  not  also  our  "  Saint"  David  ? 

^  Cornill,  Einl.*  pp.  39-41,  following  in  the  main  the  lead  of  Knenen, 
approves  of  a  division  into  E*  and  E*.  So  far  there  luis  been  no  general 
acceptance  of  Kuenen's  results,  though  his  discussion  has  opened  a  prom- 
ising tield  of  inquiry. 


±'- 


!;;!i 
,i/lii 


70 


DATE   OF  E  — ORIGIN  OF  J 


Book  IX 


times  of  the  kingdom  are  past;  their  history  lies  before 
the  writer;  the  traditions  have  been  gathered  up  and  are 
grouped  around  definite  persons  and  places;  legislative 
digests  have  been  made.  The  date  therefore  is  probably 
after  the  Syrian  wars.  (3)  There  is  in  the  book  a  con- 
sciousness of  national  strength  and  achievement  with  no 
note  of  trouble  to  mar  the  harmony  of  the  retrospect. 
The  decline,  of  the  kingdom  had  therefore  not  begun. 
All  this  points  to  the  first  part  of  the  reign  of  Jero- 
boam II.  (4)  While  linguistic  marks  in  general  are  not 
obvious,  there  is  one  of  high  significance.  In  Genesis  E 
uses  "  Yahwe  "  for  the  Deity  not  at  all,  and  even  after  the 
declaration  of  Ex.  iii.  14  f.  very  sparingly.  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  motive  of  the  preferential  use  of  "Elohim,*'* 
there  is  no  doubt  that  an  age  of  theological  reflection  had 
been  reached;  and  that  while  the  book  may  have  been 
composed  by  a  single  writer,  he  was  a  member  of  a  sort 
of  Elohistic  school.  Taken  all  in  all,  the  evidence  points 
to  very  nearly  770  B.C. 

§  931.  Similar  questions  relating  to  J  are  not  so  easily 
disposed  of.  While  the  majority  of  inquirers  hold  that 
the  work  proceeded  from  the  southern  kingdom,  a  few 
critics  of  weight,  such  as  Reuss,  Kuenen,  Schrader,  pro- 
nounce in  favour  of  the  northern,  on  the  ground  tliat  no 
Judaite  would  have  given  prominence  to  the  northern 
shrines  of  Shechem,  Bethel,  and  Peniel  (Gen.  xii.  6;  xxviii. 
13  ff. ;  xxxii.  30  f.).  This  phenomenon  has  given  rise  to 
the  hypothesis 2  that  the  foundation  of  the  work  ("  J^"; 
cf.  §  929)  was  laid  in  the  northern  kingdom,  while  the 
later  form  of  the  book  is  a  Judaite  recension.  But  sucli 
a  supposition  appears  unnecessary  when  we  consider  that 
of  Judah  were  patriotic  Israelites  and  held 


proph 


1  It  is  conceivable  tliat  in  the  strngj!,le  waged  by  the  prophetic  party  in 
northern  Israel  against  false  worship,  the  use  of  Klohini  as  a  sinunliir 
(with  a  plural  verb  in  Gen.  xx.  13,  xxxi.  53)  was  encouraged  as  aa 
effective  protest  against  the  plurality  of  deities. 

^  tSeu  Kautzijch,  Abriss,  p.  104. 


•Ch.  Ill,  §  032 


DATE   OF  J 


71 


fast  to  all  the  treasures  of  common  ancient  tradition.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  association  of  Abraham  and  Jacob 
with  Hebron,  and  the  prominence  given  to  Judah,  the 
head,  of  the  tribe,  as  well  as  the  subordinate  place 
4issigned  to  Joshua,  are  explicable  only  on  the  theory  of  a 
Judaite  origin. 

§  932.  To  fix  the  date  of  J,  that  is,  the  date  of  the  fin- 
ished work,  is  not  easy.  There  are  no  allusions  to  his- 
torical events  that  justify  a  certain  inference.^  General 
considerations  may,  however,  be  presented  :  First,  the 
manifold  geographical  and  ethnological  knowledge  shown 
by  J  points  to  a  stage  of  culture  not  earlier  than  the  days 
of  Uzziah.  Notice  particularly  the  accurate  transcription 
and  grouping  of  Babylonian  and  Assyrian  (Gen.  x.  11  f.) 
and  of  south  and  east  Arabian  names  (vs.  2G  ff.).  Sec- 
ondly, there  are  strong  indications  of  Assyrian  (Babylo- 
nian) influence  in  J's  primitive  history.  While  it  is  in 
every  way  probable  that  the  earliest  traditions  of  Genesis 
came  to  J  by  direct  tradition  (§  880),  the  details  of  the 
setting  of  the  creation  story  (Gen.  ii.)  and  of  the  disper- 
sion (Gen.  xi.)  were  evidently  due  to  contemporary 
information.  In  other  words,  the  acquaintance  with 
Babylonia  shown  by  J  was  acquired  through  direct 
knowledge  of  the  country  itself  or  of  its  literature. 
Such  advantages  were  possessed  by  Judaites  only  after 
the  reign  of  Ahaz,  to  whose  initiative  it  was  due  that 
Assyrian  and.  Babylonian  worship  and  manners  became 
fashionable  in  Jerusalem  (§  G40,  856).  Thirdly,  the 
advanced  stage  of  theological  reflection  shown  in  the 
profound  concei)tion  of  human  nature  and  its  moral  ten- 
dencies and  possibilities  ((ien.  ii.-iv.),  and  of  the  inner 


^  It  has  been  supposed  that  a  terminus  a  quo  is  given  in  Gen.  ix.  25  f. 
in  an  allusion  to  the  servitude  of  tlie  Canaanites,  which  is  tliought  to  liave 
been  realized  in  the  days  of  Solomon  (1  K.  ix.  21).  But  the  reference 
is  too  general  to  be  of  vfilue.  At  any  rate,  it  cannot  be  seriously  held 
that  any  essential  part  of  the  work  was  written  as  early  as  the  time  of 
ijolomou. 


72      HISTORY   AND   MORAL   POSITION  OF  J   AND   E       Book  IX 


I 


conditions  of  righteounness  ((ien.  xv.  fi),  place  J  not  only 
in  advance  of  E  but  also  on  a  level  with  the  literary 
prophets.  It  was  therefore  quite  probably  toward  the 
close  of  the  eighth  century  n.c.   that  J   was  composed. 

§  933.  We  cannot  conjecture  the  motive  that  prompted 
the  composition  of  the  earlier  stratum,  or  strata,  of  J. 
But  the  book,  as  it  has  come  to  us,  may  perhaps  be 
accounted  for  as  follows.  It  was  not  written  from  the 
Judaite  point  of  view  alone,  as  opjjosed  to  that  of  the 
northern  kingdom,  but  rather  from  the  standpoint  of  Judah 
as  representing  the  whole  of  the  true  Israel.  This  is 
shown  by  its  impartial  reference  to  places  and  persons  of 
common  ancient  tradition  (§  931).  Hence  it  can  scarcely 
have  been  written  while  the  northern  kingdom,  with  its 
religious  and  (from  734  B.C.)  political  rivalry,  was  still 
in  existence.  But  after  the  downfall  of  Samaria 
(722-1),  E  being  in  the  hands  of  the  prophetic  party  in 
the  southern  kingdom  as  a  literary  and  spiritual  legacy, 
what  more  natural  than  to  set  forth,  in  a  work  of  similar 
scope  and  plan,  that  all  things  from  the  beginning  of  the 
world  were  under  Jehovah's  control ;  that  his  was  a  world- 
religion  ;  and  that  the  tyi)e  of  worship  and  belief  cherished 
in  Judah  and  Jerusalem  was  that  of  the  patriarchs?  Why 
the  theme  was  not  pursued  further,  why  neither  J  nor  E 
systematically  continued  his  narrative  beyond  the  settle- 
ment in  Canaan,  may  be  understood  in  the  light  of  the 
fact  that  histories  of  the  judges  and  the  early  kings  were 
already  in  circulation  (cf.  §  917  ff.). 

§  934.  Another  observation  may  be  allowed.  It  may 
seem  unfitting  that  J  should  be  placed  on  an  ethical  and 
spiritual  level  with  the  early  literary  prophets,  in  spite  of 
the  inequalities  and  the  chiaroscuro  colouring  of  his  work. 
But  we  mtay  remember  that  we  have  here  to  do  with 
Hebrew  "historical"  writing,  which,  while  it  is  true  to 
the  past  as  far  as  manners  and  customs  are  concerned,  also 
idealizes  the  past  and  invests  its  characters  with  the 
glamour  of  that  quality  which  we  may  call  the  traditional 


■ 


Cji.  Ill,  §0:W     OTMKIi    VVKlTlNliS  (»F  TIIK    I'EUIOD  75 

heroic  (cf.  §  929).  We  must,  in  all  fairness,  judge  of 
such  an  author  by  his  best;  and  this  best  is  no  whit  below 
the  moral  and  spiritual  heights  attained  by  the  [)ro})het8 
of  the  eighth  century  B.C.  Yet  we  must  beware  of  classi- 
f3'ing  J,  or  the  compilers  of  the  "prophetic  histories" 
generally,  with  the  literary  prophets,  or  the  reforming, 
preaching  prophets,  who  preceded  them.  They  were 
pupils,  while  the  prophets  were  the  masters.  They  were 
not  public  men,  but  quiet  observers  and  students.  They 
were  not  originators  but  conservators  of  truth.  Hence 
only  the  best  that  they  preserved  to  us  can  be  compared 
with  the  genuine  prophetic  revelation.  Their  strength 
lay  partly  in  this  discipleship,  and  partly  in  a  literary 
brotherhood  or  guildhood,  to  which  the  spirit  and  habit 
of  the  inspired  prophets  were  altogether  alien. 

§  935.  But  these  great  works  do  not  make  up  the  total 
literary  history  from  900  B.C.  (cf.  §  919)  to  the  flourishing 
period  of  literary  prophecy.  J  and  E  were  themselves 
united  into  one  work  (_J  E)  soon  after  the  completion  of 
J.  The  "Blessing  of  Moses"  (Deut.  xxxiii.),  preserved 
in  E  (§  92(3),  was  perhaps  written  in  the  period  of  the 
revival  of  Israel  under  Joash  and  Jeroboam  II  (§  262). 
As  contrasted  with  the  "Blessing  of  Jacob"  (§  905),  of 
which  it  is  an  imitation,  we  observe  that  now  the  tribe 
of  Simeon  does  not  appear,  that  Reuben  is  near  its  end, 
and  that  Levi  has  gone  over  wholly  to  sacerdotalism. 
The  centre  of  the  poem  is  the  exaltation  of  Joseph  and 
Ephraim  (v.  13-17),  and  this  is  significant  for  the  date 
of  its  composition.  From  northern  Israel  came,  also,  the 
stories  of  Elijah  and  Elisha  (1  K.  xvii.-xix.,  xxi.  and 
2  K.  ii.-ix.),  with  the  historical  notices  included.  The 
career  of  Elijah  probably  formed  at  first  a  special  work, 
as  did  also  that  of  Elisha,  while  the  historical  records 
were  of  course  added  by  the  compiler  from  special  sources. 
Finally,  that  account  of  the  history  of  Samuel  and  Saul 
which  emphasizes  the  evils  and  perils  of  the  institution 
of  the   kingdom  (cf.   §   919),  along  with   the  associated 


i 


■  n 


' 


II 


74 


AMOS   AND   HIS  SCHOOL 


Book  IX 


narratives  (1  S.  i.-iii.  j  viii. ;  x.  17-24;  xv. ;  xvii.-xix. ; 
xxi. ;  xxii. ;  xxvi.),^  is,  perhaps,  to  be  assigned  to  an 
Eplnaimitic  writer  living  in  the  declining  period  of 
northern  Israel. 

§  93G.  Of  the  writings  of  the  prophets  up  to  the  time 
of  Josiah  a  summary  lias  already  been  given  in  connection 
with  tlie  domestic  and  international  events  that  affected 
their  ministry.  Thus,  we  have  passed  in  review  Amos 
and  Hosea  in  northern,  and  Isaiah  and  Micah  in  southern 
Israel.  Two  things  are  yet  lacking  for  the  proper  histori- 
cal treatment  of  their  prophecies.  We  should  show 
how  the  most  essential  elements  in  their  teaching  were 
related  to  the  antecedent  thought  and  life  of  Israel ;  and 
we  should,  also,  try  to  account  for  their  writings  as  liter- 
ary productions.  The  former  question  is  one  tliat  may  he 
more  suitably  discussed  in  connection  with  the  develop- 
ment of  religion  and  morals  (§  946  ff.).  On  the  latter 
topic  a  few  words  should  be  said  here. 

§  937.  Amos  of  Tekoa  made  an  epoch  (§  8G7),  one  of 
the  greatest  in  the  history  of  our  world.  Hut  he  did  not 
create  the  epoch.  There  were  prophets  of  his  own  class 
before  him.  Those  to  whom  he  refers  as  his  colleagues 
(iii.  7;  cf.  ii.  11  f.)  were  not  professionals  who  followed 
the  business  merely  to  earn  their  bread  (cf.  vii.  12). 
Whether,  like  him,  they  were  born  outside  of  the  prophetic 
guilds  or  not,  they  as  well  as  he  had  something  to 
"prophesy,"  that  is,  to  speak  out  spontaneously,  as  the 
word  literally  means.  They  were  of  the  school  of  Elijah, 
who,  passing  beyond  the  function  of  seer^  and  of  court 
counsellor  (Nathan,   Gad),  became  a  preacher.      It  Avas 

1 1  give  this  list  of  passages  tentatively  from  Kaiitzscli,  Ahriss,  i>.  157  f. 
Cf.  Biidde,  Die  liWvher  llkhtcr  iind  Samuel  (1800).  and  The  'Text  of  Samuel, 
in  SBO'r. ;  Driver,  Intr.  ;  and  Cornill,  EMeitung,  on  the  chapters  in 
question.  The  subject  is  difficult,  but  a  comparatively  late  date  must 
be  assumed  for  at  least  most  of  the  material  indicated  here. 

-  See  1  Sam.  ix.  9,  where  the  consciousness  of  the  distinction  between 
the  seer  and  the  later  prophet  is  significant  for  the  date  of  that  section  of 
the  book  (cf.  §  919). 


■ 


■^■i 


?Kn*i 


Cii.  Ill,  §  009 


THE   ORATORICAL    PKRlOl) 


76 


these  iinordained  and  itinerant  preachers  that  turned  the 
ancient  world  upside  down.  Their  tlienie  was  righteous- 
ness and  justice,  urgently  demanded  for  the  i)leasing  of 
Jehovah  and  for  the  saving  of  the  state.  Their  connnis- 
sion  was  simply  to  have  heard  the  word  of  Jehovah  (Am. 
iii.  8). 

§  038.  As  they  heard,  so  they  spoke  (Xum.  xxii.  8, 
18,  38;  xxiii.  3,  12,  2»);  Am.  vii.  15  ff. ;  Isa.  vi.  0  If.; 
Jer.  i.  7 ;  et  <?/.).  Yet  Amos  and  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah 
had  each  a  well-defined  language  and  style  of  their  own, 
and  these  were  the  result  of  education  and  training.  IJut 
what  is  more  important  for  our  present  purpose,  there  was 
a  characteristic  prophetic  manner  from  the  beginning. 
Both  in  matter  and  form  the  discourses  of  Amos  reveal 
to  us  a  mature  and  finished  work.  There  is  structural 
completeness  in  the  parallelism  of  the  more  strictly  poetic 
portions,  and  the  author  has  everywhere  a  command  of 
those  rhetorical  figures  that  give  grace  and  form  to  a 
masterly  oration.  But  there  is,  besides,  a  distinct  manner 
of  address  and  argument  which  is  characteristic  of  all 
written  prophecy.  It  is  the  style  of  classical  Hebrew 
oratory,  and  we  may  call  this  stage  of  Hebrew  literary 
develoi)ment  the  oratorical  period. 

§  939.  We  have,  however,  no  verbatim  reports  of  the 
extant  prophetic  speeches.  They  have  come  to  us  in  a 
form  more  or  less  condensed,  and  in  some  cases  the 
addresses  were  never  delivered  at  all.  We  have  to  feel 
our  way  through  them  for  impressions  of  the  living  voice, 
of  the  place  and  the  time  and  the  hearers.  Much  more 
difficult  is  it  to  catch  the  voices  of  which  the  Avords  of  the 
earliest  prophecies  are  the  echo.  By  what  intellectual 
discipline,  by  what  favouring  occasions,  through  what 
stimulating  influences, — apart  from  moral  and  religious 
motives,  —  was  the  prophetic  type  of  literature  developed  ? 
Of  one  thing  we  may  be  certain.  The  book  of  Amos  was 
not  the  first  written  composition  of  its  kind.  Practice  in 
speaking  alone  cannot  account  for  the  concentrated  fore  a 


M 


r^"^ 


70 


EFFECT  OF   I'UBLIC   Sl'EAKINli 


Hook  IX 


r 


of  expression,'  the  lucidity  of  order  and  re.'isoning  distinc- 
tive of  a  work  Avhicli,  in  nine  short  cliapters,  gives  tlie 
substance  of  a  scoie  of  sermons,  which  is  itself  a  hand- 
book of  social  ethics,  which  gives  a  survey  of  the  nations, 
and  minutely  desci'ibes  the  moral  and  religious  condition 
of  a  kingdom.  Mudi  practice  in  writing  u[)on  kindled 
themes  njust  be  assumed  as  an  antecedent.  This  habit  of 
writing,  however,  was  secondary,  and  was  not  always, 
l)erha[)S  not  often,  the  business  of  the  i)ro[)hets  tliemselves. 
Moreover,  the  written  memorials  were  sometimes  com- 
posed nuich  later  tiian  the  spoken  discourses. 

§  1)40.  We  shall  not,  then,  go  far  astray  if  we  regard 
the  piactice  of  public  speaking  as  the  chief  external 
stimulus  to  prophetic  composition.  Properly  considered. 
Old  Testament  prophecy,  as  distinguished  from  the  pri- 
vate or  ollicial  revelation  of  the  seer,  is  essentially  ora- 
tory,2  ^jjg  addressing  of  an  assemblage  or  a  connnunity. 
The  occasions  were  doubtless  furnished  mainly  by  the 
popular  gatherings  at  feasts  and  for  worship  at  the  favour- 
ite shrines.  Amos  himself  spoke  at  liethel  (Am.  vii.  10, 
13),  and  the  language  of  the  indignant  chief  priest  of  the 
sanctuary  implies  that  the  pro^jhet  was  out  of  order  only 
because  he  had  inveighed  against  the  ro3'al  proprietor  of 
the  sanctuary.  Tlie  roll  of  Jeremiah  was  read  (Jer. 
xxxvi.  9  f.)  on  a  great  fast  day  before  the  temple  in 
Jerusalem.  But  before  the  Deuteronomic  r  olution 
(§  8(50-8()2),  both  in  northern  Israel  (Am.  v.  21;  Hos. 
ii.  18;  EV.  11)  and  in  the  kingdom  of  Judali  (Isa.  i. 
13  f.),  festal  gatherings  were  fre(iuent  at  the  principal 
shrines.  The  keen  interest  which  the  prophets  took  in 
them  shows  that  they  made  them  a  chief  occasion  of  their 

1  Condensation  was  favoured  by  the  scarcity  and  costliness  of  writing 
materials,  just  as  conversely  the  average  book  of  the  present  day  mainly 
consists  of  cheap  stationery.  Fancy  Amos  turning  over  the  pages  of  his 
commentators  ! 

2  It  is  probable  that  na^i  a  synonym  for  "prophesy,"  meaning  to 
•'drip."  and  causative,  to  "drop"  (p.g.  Am.  vii.  16),  is  in  some  way 
connected  with  the  oral  delivery  of  prophetic  messages. 


mmm 


t^wm 


^mmmmmmmmmmmmm^ 


Cii.  Ill,  §1)42        VITAL   MOTIVE   OF   I'liOl'IlKCV 


77 


uttemiKies.  Tims  tlie  pint  played  by  i»oinil<ir  assemblies 
in  stimulatijig  t)ie  earliest  literature  of  Israel  (§  STl,  8!)H) 
was  now  reiinaeted  on  a  lii<;ber  plane  in  tbe  niukinj^  of 
"some  better  tbing,"  aitart  from  wbicb  tbe  older  revela- 
tion eould  "not  be  made  i)eifect." 

§  941.  In  tbis  communication  witb  tbe  people  tbrougb 
tbe  living  voice  of  tbe  propbets  tbere  was  a  vitalizing 
principle;  tbe  same,  indeed,  as  tbat  wbicb,  as  a  saving 
element,  informed  tbe  wb(de  of  tbe  Old  Testament  lit- 
erature. Wbat  gave  a  more  tban  Prometbean  tire  and 
potency  to  propbecy  was  tbis,  tbat  it  seized  upon  and  was 
possessed  by  living  issues  of  eternal  moment.  Tbe 
propbets  were  tbe  messengers  and  organs  of  tbe  ever 
living  God,  and  bence  tbey  found  tbeir  work  and  its  joy 
in  the  present,  — in  its  duties,  its  bopes,  its  possibilities. 
The  previous  literature  liad  now  done  its  part.  The 
stories  of  tbe  fathers,  tbe  struggles  and  triumphs,  the 
failures  and  sins,  of  the  generations  tbat  were  gone,  had 
linked  Israel  with  a  God  of  revelation  and  providence,  of 
holiness  and  faithfulness.  But  a  new  order  of  things  bad 
begun.  Egyptians  and  Canaanites  and  Philistines  were 
no  longer  dreaded.  They  were  like  the  Kepbaim,  huge 
but  impalpable  shades.  Even  tbe  Syrians  no  longer 
inspired  Israel  with  terror.  But  a  greater  foe  was  to 
come,  as  yet  hardly  seen  except  from  afar.  A»id  who 
would  abide  tbe  day  of  his  coming?  It  was  not  clear  that 
Jehovah  himself  would  then  save  and  defend  bis  peo[)le. 
Na3%  he  would  turn  to  be  their  enemy  and  would  tight 
against  them.  For  they  bad  forsaken  Jehovah,  and 
despised  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  (Isa.  i.  4).  Tbe  very 
"day  of  Jehovah,"  for  wbicb  they  looked,  would  be 
"darkness  and  not  light"  (Am.  v.  18,  20).  Only  a  ne\T 
and  living  word  could  guide  and  comfort  in  the  gatbeiing 
gloom.  And  tbis  was  the  word  of  the  prophets,  a  word 
of  light  and  life. 

§  942.     A  clear  century  of  literary  history,  from  J  E  to' 
Deuteronomy,  was  occupied  by  propbecy  and  the  prophetic 


1^ 


PROGRESS  TOWARD   DEUTERONOMY 


Book  IX 


lyrics  alone  (§  605  f.).  The  fact  is  eloquent  of  the 
originality,  force,  and  timeliness  of  the  prophetic  word. 
Tlie  literature  up  to  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century  B.C. 
had  dealt  with  the  old  order  of  things  that  ended  with  the 
establishment  of  a  lasting  peace  and  a  vigorous  govern- 
ment under  Jeroboam  II  and  Uzziah.  The  motives  and 
the  progress  of  the  long  antecedent  history,  with  the  lives 
of  the  founders  of  Israel  and  tiie  checkered  career  of  Israel 
itself,  had  been  set  forth  at  large.  The  fundamental  insti- 
tutions, legal  and  moral,  that  were  the  guardians  of  its 
past  and  seemed  to  guarantee  its  future,  were  written  up. 
But  this  could  not  of  itself  avail  to  guide  and  steady  the 
people  of  Jehovah  in  the  confusion  and  disorder,  inter- 
national and  domestic,  of  the  new  Assyrian  times.  Men 
who  are  in  an  underground  lab3'i'inth  may  see  around 
them  by  the  light  of  a  candle,  but  only  the  inbreaking 
light  of  the  sun  can  guide  them  to  the  upper  day.  Such, 
in  its  way,  was  the  "sure  word  of  prophecy"  to  all  who 
would  heed  and  follow. 

§  943.  And  what  of  the  next  great  event,  the  publica- 
tion of  Deuteronomy?  It  was  in  the  true  line  of  evolu- 
tion of  the  ancient  literature,  as  it  liad  been  deflected  by 
the  prophetic  movement.  Deuteronomy  was  essentially  a 
completion  of  the  old  histories  in  the  spirit  and  under  the 
impulse  of  prophecy.  J  and  E  showed,  in  the  motive  of 
their  composition,  that  they  were  looking  toward  the  goal 
aimed  at  by  the  propiiets  who  took  their  [)lace  in  the  order 
of  revelation.  But  what  to  them  was  an  as[)iration  and 
an  ideal  became  to  the  prophets  the  very  breath  and  bread 
of  life.  Where  tliey  ended  their  work,  the  propiiets  began 
theirs.  The  historians  gave  the  facts  of  history  and  of 
providence.  The  prophets  biought  these  into  vital  rela- 
tion with  present  issues.  They  showed  that  the  past, 
present,  and  future  of  Israel  were  determined  by  the  God 
of  the  whole  earth,  who  adjudged  the  fate  of  his  people 
according  to  the  laws  of  his  own  moral  nature.  Then 
came  the  Deuteronomist,  who  revived  and  reinforced  the 


Ch.  Ill,  § '.♦44      HLSTOKV,    PROPHECY,    DEUTEKONOMY 


70^ 


okl  rules  of  life  arwl  conduct  by  the  application  to  them 
of  these  prophetic  principles,  thus  bringing  both  the  rules 
and  the  i>rinciples  into  active  operation.  J  E  was  a  book 
of  institutions  and  ordinances  and  of  the  leadings  of 
Providence  (^  U'I4  ff.).  How  closely  Deuteronomy  is 
connected  with  it  appears  from  a  comparison,  which 
shows  that  "tlie  laws  in  J  E  form  the  foundation  of  the 
Deuteronomic  legislation."^ 

§  944.  Thus,  Deuteronomy  took  a  practical  step  be- 
yond J  E  and  the  earlier  prophets,  though  still  in  the 
same  line  of  development;  for  it  showed  that  the  spirit 
of  ol>edience  to  Jehovah  and  the  moral  purpose  of  the 
former  revelation  alike  required  that  there  should  be,  on 
the  part  of  the  people,  a  more  complete  surrender  of  the 
heart  and  life  to  his  service.  To  secure  a  fuller  conse- 
cration and  a  purer  worshi[)  new  enactments  were  made, 
broader  and  stronger,  dividing  sharply  between  the  holy 
and  the  unholy,  the  sacred  and  the  secular,  the  lawful 
and  the  proscriU-d.  Hence  Deuteronomy  was  not  meiely 
a  repetition  of  the  ancient  law:  it  com[)leted  it;  it  justi- 
fied it;  it  spiritualized  it.  Tiie  old  historians  and  seers 
built  an  ark  of  safety  for  Israel.  The  proi)hets  guided  it 
through  the  swcdling  waters  and  drifting  wrecks  of  the 
national  deluge.  'I'lu;  Dcuteronomist  took  possession  of 
the  devastated  land,  settled  it  anew,  and  rededicatcd  it  to 
Jehovah.  And  with  the  recnactnient  of  the  Covenant 
(Gen.  ix.  1-i;  Dent.  v.  JJ)  a  bow  of  [iromise  was  seen  for 
a  moment  in  Isra«d's  troubUnl  sky,  the  storm-cloud  of 
judgment    blending    with    the    sunshine    of    mercy,   and 


sliowint;  how  earth  niiL'ht  be  reconciled  to  heaven. 


'  I  quote  from  Driv^T,  to  whose  useful  comparative  table  of  the  law . 
of  the  Peiitati^uch  ( Jntr/'  p.  73  ff.),  I  would  refer  the  reader  for  furtl  or 
details.  A  tieiKTal  division  of  Deuteronomy  liavin;^  been  fiiven  in  *>  847 
and  note,  no  furtinr  analvHiH  need  be  attempted  here,  especially  is  the 
book  is  of  simple  slrur-ture,  and  the  recent,  literature  is  in  (ivery  respect 
adequate.  Amonz  Hp«'eial  worlds,  the  commentaries  of  Driver  ( 'Mh't)  and 
Andrew  Hariier  {l>^U.'tj  are  to  be  particularly  reconuuended. 


:80 


NEED   OF  FlKTllEK   INQUIUV 


Book  IX 


§  945.  Here  we  must  close  our  historical  survey  of 
the  literature  that  culminated  in  Deuteronomy.  What 
specially  distinguishes  that  profound  and  far-reaching 
work  is  the  spirit  and  the  sanctions  of  its  teaching  and 
its  commands.  To  appreciate  this  more  subtle  quality  of 
the  book  we  need  to  follow  closely  the  develoi)ment  of 
moral  and  religious  principles  and  ideas,  as  shown  in  the 
life  and  thought  of  the  leading  men  in  Israel's  history. 


f  ! 


m 


I 


wmi 


;■   ' 


CHAPTER  IV 


EELIGIOX   AXD   MORALS 


§  946.  Our  review  of  the  inner  history  of  Israel 
(Hook  VII)  has  taught  us  that  it  was  religion  that 
made  the  deepest  lines  of  cleavage  between  parties  in 
society  and  in  the  state.  As  far  as  public  policy  was 
concerned,  the  "  Opposition  "  was  normally  composed  of 
religious  puritans.  Civil  broils  had  as  their  chief  excit- 
ing cause  religious  discontent,  and  the  determining  if  not 
always  the  primary  political  issue  in  both  kingdoms  was 
the  question  whether  Jehovah  was  to  be  honoured  by  a 
pure  and  exclusive  worship,  or  whether  his  rites  shouhl 
be  adulterated  with  those  of  inferior  and  discredited 
deities.  Still  more  profound  Avas  the  social  schism  that 
resulted  indirectly  from  the  predominance  of  the  party  of 
religious  compromise.  It  was  the  partisans  of  Jehovah 
who  took  the  side  of  the  suffering  and  the  oppressed, 
and  with  their  Avrongs  and  their  vindication  the  cause  of 
Jehovah  was  identilied  (§  597,  002).  Naturally,  it  is  the 
political  antagonism  that  is  noted  in  the  historical  records, 
and  the  social  strife  that  finds  expression  in  the  reflective 
literature  (§  598  ff.).  It  was  these  political  and  social 
crises  that  led  to  the  comj)osition  of  the  classical  writ- 
ings on  the  subject ;  and  the  movements  or  events  con- 
nected with  such  crises  furnish  us  with  our  data  for  an 
estimate  of  religious  forces  and  religious  progress. 

§  947.  We  thus  see  that  the  great  moral  issues  in 
Israel  were  practically  religious  issues  as  well.  We  can- 
not, however,  determine  directly  the  course  of  moral 
o  81 


■ 


82 


PRIMITIVE   MORALITY 


Book  IX 


progress  in  Israel  from  the  history  of  its  worship  and 
beliefs.  We  must  rather  test  the  genuineness,  depth,  and 
power  of  religion  by  the  moral  conduct  of  its  professors. 
Our  earlier  studies  upon  the  "society  morals  and  reli- 
gion "  of  Israel  up  to  the  fall  of  Samaria  and  the  acces- 
sion of  Ilezekiah  (§  589  ff.)  dealt  mainly  with  the 
question  of  social  morality,  since  the  inner  development 
of  the  people  could  best  be  traced  in  the  progress  of 
the  community  as  a  whole.  Now  that  we  are  confronted 
w^ith  the  problem  of  the  residts  of  prophetic  teaching 
as  tested  by  the  great  reformation,  we  must  examine  the 
prevailing  types  of  individual  morality  in  the  preceding 
times.  Our  inquiry  will  show  that  before  the  prophetic 
era  the  morality  of  the  best  men  in  Israel  was  as  a  rule 
both  rudimentary  and  partial.  A  personal  conscience 
seemed  scarcely  yet  awakened.  The  higher  modes  of 
life  and  conduct  seemed  unknown.  Such  virtues  as  Avere 
praiitised  were  of  that  coarse  and  robust  kind  which 
belongs  and  is  indeed  necessary  to  primitive  society. 

§  948.*  A  '^e  have  to  begin  with  the  so-called  patriarchal 
epoch.  Before  Abraham  there  is  no  Bible  history  in  any 
true  sense  of  the  term ;  and  where  there  is  no  history 
there  is  no  morality  that  can  be  tested  and  described. 
Morality  is  always  much  of  a  social  matter,  especially 
among  primitive  peoples.  What  the  community  is  in  the 
habit  of  doing  is  in  general  the  norm  and  guide  of  indi- 
vidual coiuluct.  The  practical  limits  are  set  on  the  one 
side  by  what  the  community  tolerates,  and  on  the  other 
by  what  it  desires.  Further,  we  know  the  facts  of  ancient 
tribal  life  only  from  the  record  of  the  deeds  of  the  leaders, 
in  which  the  figures  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  Jacob,  and  the 
Twelve  stand  out  in  solitary  relief. 

§  949.  In  reading  the  story  of  the  ancient  patriarchs, 
we  must  be  at  once  struck  with  tlie  apparent  freedom 


1  Tlie  substance  of  §  1)48-9U3  is  taken,  by  permission,  from  my  article, 
"The  Moral  Evolution  of  the  Old  Testament,"  in  the  American  Journal 
of  Theology,  I,  058  ff. 


mm 


wm 


Cii.  IV,  §  050      CHANGE  OF   MORAL   STAXDAHDS 


88 


V. 


and  breadth  of  movement  and  action  which  it  reveals, 
the  absence  of  moral  restraints,  the  self-impulsiveness, 
so  to  speak,  of  moral  choice.  This  phenomenon  has,  to 
a  large  extent,  its  explanation  in  the  conditions  of  the 
nomadic  life.  We  have  to  make,  in  any  case,  a  distinc- 
tion between  classes  of  moral  acts.  There  are  some  deeds 
which  are  wrong  in  the  very  nature  of  things,  while 
there  are  others  which  are  wrong  because  they  are  injuri- 
ous to  our  fellows  or  to  society.  The  latter  class  may 
at  one  time  be  permissible  and  at  another  reprehensible. 
A  monumental  instance  is  the  discrimination  made  by 
Jesus  between  the  ideal  marriage  bond  and  the  loosening 
of  the  relation  tolerated  in  an  earlier  stage  of  the  history 
of  Israel.  Polygamy  also  is  now  regarded  as  immoral  in 
civilized  states.  But  it  was  sanctioned  by  high  example 
in  ancient  Israel.  The  same  is  true  of  slaveholding. 
Indeed,  slaveholding  was  not,  and  could  not  be  at  any 
time,  interdicted  in  ancient  society.  Yet  the  abuse  of 
the  relations  thus  tolerated  or  approved  was  always 
reckoned  an  offence.  Harsh  treatment,  either  of  a  wife 
or  a  slave,  was  always  wrong.  Thus  social  institutions, 
themselves  subject  to  change  and  readjustment,  may 
within  their  proper  spheres  raise  or  lower  the  conditions 
and  standards  of  moral  obligation. 

§  050.  The  fundamental  consideration  in  such  variable 
cases  is  the  interest  of  society.  Not  that  this  was  a  mat- 
ter of  agreement  or  of  contrivance  in  any  way.  It  was 
simply  the  unconscious  adjustment  of  the  community  to 
its  necessities.  Society  has  progressed  mainly  by  the 
suppression  or  gradual  abandonment  of  habits  and  cus- 
toms which  have  been  found  to  be  injurious.  It  is  an 
important  and  difficult  question,  how  far  we  are  to  distin- 
guish between  the  evils  which  are  in  themselves  wrong 
and  those  whose  culpability  varies  with  the  requirements 
of  society  and  its  consequent  varying  moral  standards. 
If  we  go  far  enough  back  in  social  history,  we  shall  come 
to  a  stage  where  almost  any  sort  of  action  is  justifiable 


84 


DEFECTS  OF  TRIBAL  MORALITY 


Book  IX 


under  given  circumstances.  Tiie  decisive  sanction  was 
the  will  of  the  community  ;  in  otlier  words,  the  usages 
and  customs  which  formed  the  basis  and  bond  of  union. 
In  ordinary  cases  individual  choice  was  overborne  by  the 
interests  of  tiie  clan  or  the  family.  A  striking  instance 
is  afforded  by  the  difference  of  treatment  accorded  to 
kinsfolk  and  clansmen,  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  aliens,  on 
the  other.  Kindnesses,  or  even  the  ordinary  offices  of 
humanity,  would  by  usage,  that  is  upon  principle,  be 
withheld  from  the  latter.  What  wouhl  be  counted  a 
crime  done  to  a  tribesman  was  sometimes  a  meritorious 
and  even  an  obligatory  act  when  done  to  an  outsider. 
For  the  avenger  of  blood  there  was  no  punisliment,  but 
rather  approbation,  since  the  duty  to  take  uj)  the  cause  of 
a  kinsman,  even  if  he  were  in  the  wrong,  Avas  paramount 
(§  '^•^^)'  Thus  no  claim  of  comi)assion  could  avail  even  in 
behalf  of  one  who  had  unwittingly  provoked  such  corpo- 
rate resentment.  It  is  difficult  to  see  how  social  morality, 
which  rests  essentially  on  the  equal  claims  of  all  men  for 
justice  if  not  for  mercy,  could  flourish  in  these  primitive 
communities.  The  matter  was  aggravated  l)v  the  fact 
that  the  sole  judge  of  the  avenge  was  the  family  or 
tribal  head.  It  would  be  strange,  indeed,  if  the  common 
virtues  were  maintained  in  the  stress  and  strain  of  daily 
life  when  the  vendetta  was  kept  up  by  the  community 
from  a  sense  of  right.  When  individual  action  was  sub- 
ordinated to  the  claims  of  the  community  there  was  lit- 
tle room  for  that  spontaneous  choice  between  opposing 
courses  which  is  at  once  the  test  of  moral  quality  and  tlie 
basis  of  moral  discipline.  Qualities  of  mind  and  heart 
essential  to  the  moral  life  of  the  individual  were,  in  the 
very  nature  of  the  case,  not  yet  evoked,  since  in  that 
stage  of  society  the  solidarity  of  the  social  unit  was  a 
much  more  obvious  thing  than  the  individuality  of  its 
several  members.  Indeed,  the  notion  that  the  members 
of  the  family  or  kin  formed  by  themselves  an  undivided 
life  lies  at  the  very  foundation  of  tribalism. 


rii,  IV,  §  •.»52 


KKLIGK H:S    IXFLUENCKS 


85 


§  U.J1.  Another  great  moral  (letenniiuint  was  the  eUiim 
of  tlie  deities  upon  the  obedience  of  their  foUowers.  We 
may  say  in  general  that  in  the  primitive  tribal  condition 
the  obligations  of  a  man  to  his  deity  are  analogous  in 
some  respects  to  those  which  bind  him  to  the  usages  or 
behests  of  his  community.  In  a  very  profound  sense  the 
same  ties  united  the  members  to  one  another  and  to  their 
common  divinity.  Even  if  we  do  not  accept  the  view 
that  most  tribal  religion  was  based  upon  ancestor- Avorship, 
we  must  concede  that  the  tribesmen  regarded  themselves 
as  being  akin  to  their  gods,  as  in  fact  sharing  with  them 
a  connnon  life  (§  897).  This  was  certainly  one  of  the 
sources  of  the  power  wielded  over  them  by  the  objects 
of  tlieir  reverence  and  homage.  There  were  two  prin- 
cipal ways  in  which  such  power  was  exercised.  One  was 
connected  with  sacred  places,  the  proper  seats  of  tlie  gods, 
where  the  rites  of  their  worship  were  i)erformed,  and 
whose  sacredness  conferred  a  special  sanctity  or  immunity 
upon  special  things  or  actions.  Another  was  associated 
with  the  declared  will  of  the  gods,  which  was  made  known 
through  various  channels,  but  mainlj-  by  the  domestic  or 
communal  priests,  who  ministered  within  the  family  or 
family  group,  or  in  the  common  sanctuary  of  the  tribe. 

§  052.  We  revert  now  to  the  moral  standards  and 
ideals  of  the  so-called  patriarchal  society  among  the 
Hebrews.  The  subject  has  already  been  glanced  at  in 
connection  with  the  moral  inferiority  of  some  portions  of 
J  E.  This  was  ex[)lained  on  the  ground  that  the  biogra- 
phers had  faithfully  recorded  the  traditions  of  the  fathers 
which  did  not  stand  on  the  ethical  level  of  the  prophetic 
times  (§920,  cf.  O^U).  We  have  thus  o1)tained  an  inci- 
dental guarantee  of  the  accuracy  of  the  pictures  of  ancient 
life  found  in  the  book  of  frenesis.  Such  accuracy  is, 
moreover,  generally  conceded,  since  the  narrative  answers 
to  any  fair  test  that  may  be  applied  by  arclueological  and 
sociological  criticism.  The  questi(m  before  us  is  the  rela- 
tion in  point  of  morality  between  the  Israel  of  tradition 


HI 


] 


86 


rATKIAHCIIAL   HECTITUDE 


Book  IX 


uiul  the  Israel  of  later  history  ;  and  tliere  can  be  no 
doubt  that  with  the  stories  of  [)atriarchal  life  we  stand 
at  the  fountain  head  of  an  unbroken  stream  of  national 
tradition. 

§  058.  Moral  actions  may  for  convenience  be  divided 
into  those  which  spring  from  ordinary  human  relations 
and  tliose  which  have  a  s])ecial  religions  motive  or  war- 
rant. Of  the  former  class  the  most  prominent  offences 
are  deceit  and  fraud.  Oriental  deception  has  been  noto- 
rious chiefly  because  the  civilization  of  Western  Asia  has 
been  specially  unfavourable  to  the  promotion  of  veracity 
and  justice.  These  virtues  arc  seldom  highly  developed 
in  communities  of  low  political  organization.  That  men 
are  naturally  liars  is  a  fact  of  anthropological  science  as 
well  as  of  biblical  and  historical  observation.  It  is  only 
by  slow  gradations  of  self-discipline  that  truthfulness  has 
been  established  anywhere  as  an  attribute  of  individuals 
or  communities. 

§  U54.  It  would  therefore  naturally  be  expected  that 
the  virtues  of  sincerity  and  rectitude  would  be  rudimen- 
tary or  wanting  in  nomadic  or  semi-nomadic  peoples. 
The  foundation  of  such  qualities  is  the  sense  of  responsi- 
bility for  one's  acts  to  God  or  to  man,  or  to  both.  But 
when  religion  consists  mainly  of  ceremony  or  ritual,  there 
is  little  chance  for  the  evoking  of  the  former.  And  when 
property  is  attached  so  precariously  to  the  individual,  no 
large  issues  or  powerful  motives  are  present  tliat  might 
arouse  and  foster  the  latter.  When  the  individual  subor- 
dinates his  personality  to  the  interests  of  his  tribe,  the 
demands  of  conscience  are  weakened,  or  rather,  the  sense 
of  moral  obligation  cannot  be  developed.  At  the  same 
time  other  virtues  may  be  conspicuous  which  are  in  a  line 
with  the  surrender  of  oneself  to  the  cause  of  the  commu- 
nity. Thus  it  happens  that  the  early  age  of  great  races  is 
an  age  of  heroism,  and  that  we  find  among  them  well- 
grounded  traditions  of  noble  deeds  of  courage  and  devo- 
tion that  serve  as  an  inspiration  to  all  later  generations. 


Cii.  IV,  §  i»5J 


Tin:   CAKKKll  OF  JACOB 


87 


111  some   such  way  must  we    represent   to   ourselves  the 
earliest  or  patriarelial  a<^o  of  aneient  Israel. 

§  Ooo.  Of  the  propensity  to  deeeive  and  cheat,  the 
recorded  haljits  of  the  three  great  patriaiehs  rnay  be  taken 
as  faii'ly  representative.  Very  ancient  must  he  the  social 
laxity  exhihited  in  Abraham's  betrayal  of  his  wife  ((len. 
xii.  10  ff.  in  J  ;  Gen.  xx.  1  ff.  in  K)  and  Isaac's  duplication 
of  the  crime  (Gen.  xxvi.  in  .1).  A  more  normal  ty[)e  of 
deception  is  exhibited  in  the  career  of  Jacob,  Avhich  illus- 
trates, on  the  one  hand,  the  advantage  of  family  leadership 
and  the  ancestral  blessing,  and,  on  the  other,  sets  forth 
the  means  that  might  be  resorted  to  in  order  to  secure 
these  priceless  gains.  I  do  not  dwell  at  length  on  the 
lessons  of  the  story,  which  was  made  entirely  true  to  life 
and  which,  at  the  same  time,  seems  in  every  instance  to 
show  that  dishonesty  is  the  best  policy.  A  larger  idea 
may  have  inspired  this  cherished  national  tradition,  which 
we  may  express  as  follows  after  the  manner  of  the  modem 
Jacob:  The  outcome  of  the  self-aggrandizement  of  Jacob, 
from  the  time  when,  under  the  guidance  of  liis  crafty 
mother,  he  cajoled  Esau  out  of  the  blessing  till  liis  per- 
manent settlement  in  Canaan,  was  a  better  thing  for  Israel 
and  humanity  than  would  have  been  his  discomfiture  by 
his  rivals;  just  as,  at  the  present  time,  the  success  of  the 
policy  of  Cecil  Rhodes  and  the  vindication  of  his  "per- 
sonal honour"  aie  better  for  England  and  mankind  than 
the  continued  possession  by  a  kindred  but  unprogressive 
community  of  an  auriferous  territory  and  of  its  birthright 
of  freedom.  Even  from  the  industrial  and  cultural  points 
of  view,  not  to  speak  of  the  s[)iritual  interests  ultimately 
involved,  it  was  better  that  the  higher  and  more  progres- 
sive ty})e  of  man  should  have  the  i)romise  and  the  posses- 
sion of  Canaan,  than  that  the  lower  and  undeveloped  type, 
the  huntsman  of  the  wilderness,  should  be  the  heir  of  the 
"father  of  the  faithful."  This  conception  of  history  is, 
we  may  say,  hardly  on  a  level  with  the  true  prophetic 
(e.g.  Jer.  xvi.  13)  or  Christian  spirit.     But  by  the  time 


XM 


. 


88 


RELATIONS   OF  THE   SEXES 


Book  IX 


when  the  tnulition  was  enihodied  in  the  record  (§  923  ff.), 
it  hiul  become  the  valid  interpretation  of  tlie  original 
story.  Tlie  narrative  of  the  fact  has  already  been  dealt 
with  (§  Dl'O). 

i;  050.  We  may  now  briefly  examine  the  moral  conduct 
and  standards  of  the  ancest(n's  of  Israel  in  the  ecjually 
fundamental  matter  of  tlie  relations  of  the  sexes.  At  the 
outset  we  may  say  that  in  such  a  society  as  theirs  there  is 
no  question  of  extreme  grossness  or  utter  self-abandon- 
ment to  revolting  vice.  Their  life  Avas  on  the  whole 
siini)le  and  moderate.  It  was,  speaking  generally,  life 
in  cities  which  promoted  institutional  vice,  if  the  term 
may  be  permitted.  And  to  this  stage  the  early  Hebrews 
had  not  yet  become  accustomed.  Vices  associated  with 
the  worship  of  those  deities  which  were  regarded  as  the 
type  of  the  procreative  or  sexual  instinct  naturally  flour- 
ished where  great  temples  were  erected  and  maintained  to 
their  honour.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  that  passion  of 
human  nature,  whose  uidjridled  indulgence  has  tended 
more  than  anything  else  to  demoralize  society  and  to  bring 
about  the  destruction  of  families  and  nations,  received,  so 
to  speak,  an  apotheosis  in  the  transition  from  nomadic  to 
city  life  (see  §  11H4  ff.,  W\2  f.). 

§  I*")!.  We  have,  accordingly,  to  deny  to  the  most 
ancient  of  the  Hebrews  any  form  of  rank  sensuality.  On 
the  other  hand,  polygiimy,  intermarriage  of  near  rela- 
tives, and  the  still  more  debasing  practice  of  concubinage 
were  freely  tolerated.  Yet  we  must  take  into  account  the 
efi^'ect  on  the  Avhole  social  fabric  of  the  institution  of 
slaver}',  the  most  important  factor  in  ancient  life  and 
manners  (§  530  if.).  A  notable  secondary  result  of  the 
system  was  the  custom  which  accounts  for  the  pathetic 
story  of  Gen.  xvi.  In  general,  the  inferiority  of  the  wife 
as  part  of  the  property  of  the  house-master  (§  412)  had 
the  consequence  that  the  freedom  which  was  granted  to 
him  was  denied  to  her,  that  the  dismissal  of  a  wife  was 
customary  and  easy,  »vhile  that  of  a  husband  was  unknown. 


Cii.  IV,  §  1)58 


LICENTIOUS   PRACTICES 


hi) 


The  conception  of  "adultery"  in  such  ii  .society  wiis, 
accordingly,  quite  different  from  ours:  the  iiilidelity  of 
a  husband  involved  no  separation  from  ids  wife,  wldle 
tiiat  of  the  Avife  or  betrothed  maiden  nnght  be  a  capiliil 
(tfTence,  according  to  the  decree  of  the  head  of  the  family 
(Gen.  xxxviii.  24).  As  to  the  prevalence  of  a(hilliMy  in 
this  semi-historic  period  we  are  not  informed.  Wo  can 
si)eak  witli  more  deliniteness  as  to  the  relations  of  peo[)le 
unmarrieil  or  unhetrothed.  These  were,  as  a  rule,  toler- 
ably innocent,  as  is  usually  the  case  among  a  nomadic 
peojde  of  long  endurance  and  established  fame;.  There 
would  otherwise  have  been  no  guarantee  of  purity  of  race, 
the  first  essential  of  tribal  stability.  It  is  a  pleasing 
feature  of  the  oldest  Hebrew  society,  as  also  of  the  oldest 
Arabian,  that  young  men  and  women  were  at  liberty  to 
consort  freely  with  one  another  —  a  thing  impossible  were 
sexual  irregularity  either  a[)proved  or  fre(iuent.  It  is  <[uite 
another  (piestion  how  sexual  vice  was  regarded  from  the 
moral  point  of  view.  That  i)rofessional  harlotry  was  not 
unknown  to  tiie  earliest  Hebrew  society  we  have  abundant 
proof,  though  we  have  no  direct  evidence  that  any  mem- 
ber of  the  degraded  sisterhood  belonged  to  the  connnunity 
of  Israel.  liut  the  institution  of  sacred  prostitutes  was 
prevalent  among  the  Canaanites  of  the  time,  according  to 
the  stories  of  (Jenesis.  Significant  is  the  matter-of-fact 
way  in  which  the  notices  are  recorded.  The  action 
ascribed  to  Judah  on  the  way  to  Tinmali  (Gen.  xxxviii. 
15  ff.)  is  mentioned  as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world. 
§  958.  We  have  now  to  look  at  the  Hebrew  patri- 
archal society  from  a  point  of  view  which  more  nearly 
approaches  the  altruistic.  This  convenient  term  compre- 
hends the  various  sentiments  and  impulses  that  provoke 
to  deeds  of  self-sacrilice  in  any  form  —  magnanimity, 
generositj',  compassion,  self-denial.  It  suggests  directly 
the  essential  basis  of  morality,  which  in  all  ages  and 
places  rests  fundamentally  upon  the  giving  up  of  self. 
For   these  primitive   ages,  however,    the   two   qualities 


i 


r^ 


110 


viinrEM  OK  ahuaham 


DooK  IX 


(If! 


alit'iidy  (ILsciiHsiid  are  much  reiidier  tents  of  inoiiil  progress 
tliiiii  those  about  to  l)o  considered.  Veracity  and  chastity 
arc  virtues  which  presuppose  not  merely  a  strong  per- 
sonal sell-discipline,  hut  also  a  i)uhlio  or  social  sentiment 
which  is  attain(!d  only  after  a  long  period  of  educati(»n 
and  cultivation  has  gradually  raised  the  moral  standards  of 
tiic  connnunity.  If,  therefore,  there  is  any  such  thing  as 
moral  progress  in  human  history,  these  later  virtues  must 
he  given  a  higher  jilace  than  the  more  primitive.  (Qualities 
which  are  more  elementary  still,  such  as  endurance  and 
courage,  we  do  not  need  to  discuss  at  all.  They  are  found 
in  all  kinds  and  stages  of  society,  and,  in  fact,  may  be 
said  to  be  a  necessary  condition  of  the  survival  of  any 
society  whatever.  Indeed,  they  are  so  far  from  being  cri- 
teria of  moral  progress  that  they  are  not  even  exclusively 
human.  In  civilized  human  society  their  real  significance 
does  not  consist  in  their  exercise  or  display  by  itself,  but 
only  in  the  occasion  or  issue  that  has  called  them  forth. 
§  050.  Instances  of  generosity  and  magnanimity  are 
frefjuent  in  the  patriarchal  history.  In  the  character  of 
Abraham  these  virtues  are  perhaps  the  most  distinguished 
traits.  He  is  the  type  of  an  enterprising  chief  fcn-med  to 
be  a  leader  of  men  and  the  pioneer  of  a  great  enterprise. 
It  is  a  true  instinct  which  associates  these  qualities  with 
such  an  epoch-making  man.  Of  the  moral  character  of 
Isaac  we  know  almost  nothing.  He  is  represented  as 
being  largely  under  the  control  of  his  cunning  Aramiean 
wife.  He  is  evidently  intended,  however,  to  be  merely  a 
connecting  link  between  Abraham,  the  head  of  the  race, 
and  Jacob,  the  head  of  the  nation.  Of  the  last-named  we 
cannot  find  any  positively  meritorious  trait  recorded. 
The  meaning  of  this  seems  to  be  that  Avhile  his  story  is 
true  to  patriarchal  life,  it  is  also  a  reminiscence  of  the 
successful  endeavours  made  by  "Israel"  to  gain  a  footing 
among  the  nations  (cf.  §  055).  Thus  he  is  a  type  of  the 
national  advancement  generally,  — 

Tantce  molis  erat  Judnam  condere  gentetn. 


Cii.  IV,  §  1K31       IDKAL  CIIAHACTKR   OF   JOSKl'lI 


Ul 


i 


Till)  only  sort  of  iiohliMiess  of  which  tho  fiiniily  of  Isiiac 
could  hoast  is  to  bo  cicditi'd  to  tlic  wild  and  passionate 
lunitcr  Esan,  tho  typo  of  liit^'ufai'd  races. 

§  WO.  Tho  character  of  J()sc[)h  presents  the  hi^dicst 
tyjio  of  ancient  Hebrew  molality.  His  story  is  reniarkai)lo 
from  seveial  points  of  view.  Hnt  its  most  riMnaikablo 
feature  is  the  grandeur  and  symmetry  of  the  moral  por- 
traiture of  its  hero.  His  would  bo  a  great  character  in 
any  ago;  but  the  marvel  of  it  is  that  it  exhibits  a  life 
lived  in  that  i)rimitivo  stage  of  social  dovelo[)nu'nt  which, 
as  wo  have  already  seen,  is  most  unfavourable  to  the 
manifestation  of  liigh  moral  qualities.  Fidelity,  honour, 
sense  of  personal  ies])onsibility,  ideal  chastity,  magna- 
nimity, —  not  of  tho  pagan,  not  of  tho  Old  Testament,  but 
of  tho  Christian  typo,  —  these  are  some  of  tho  traits  of  tho 
favourite  son  of  tho  subtle  and  seKish  Jacob.  Tho  easiest 
solution  is  that  the  story  is  an  idealizing  paiablo  drawn 
for  the  instruiition  of  a  later  reflective  ago  of  Israel's  his- 
tory. And  yet,  however  the  narrative  may  have  assumed 
its  present  literary  garb  at  a  later  date,  the  events  recorded 
are  not  impossible.  The  two  most  prominent  features  of 
Joseph's  character  are  las  fidelity  in  service  and  his  sidf- 
repression.  But  ho  was  invested  with  responsibilities 
beyond  those  possible  in  tho  semi-nomadic  environment 
of  his  early  days.  Trained  in  this  school,  he  meets  the 
supreme  tem[)tation  with  an  answer  which  shows  that  he 
fools  himself  to  be  a  moral  trustee  (Gen.  xxxix.  8). 

§  OGl.  With  Joseph  there  is  a  still  more  solemn 
restraint:  "How  can  I  do  this  groat  evil  and  sin  against 
God?"  Nothing  shows  more  clearly  than  this  the  excep- 
tional place  in  the  patriarchal  history  heiil  by  Joseph. 
The  others  are  typical  of  their  time  and  place.  But  such 
an  aj)peal  to  divine  authority  in  matters  of  moral  conduct 
stands  alone  in  the  early  Hebrew  history.  There  is  much 
said  of  religious  acts  on  the  part  of  the  patriarchs  and  of 
their  fidelity  to  Jehovah.  Their  faitli  in  Him  determined 
also  their  course  in  important  matters.     But  we  do  not 


^.5 


'.UO.^T"**,*?.'!!*; 


i 


92 


RELIGIOUS   ELEMENTS 


Book  IX 


find  that  it  determined  them  strongly  and  steadily  toward 
righteousness  and  mercy.  What,  then,  is  their  signiti- 
cance  in  the  history  of  morality?  They  were  men  of  large, 
original  genius  (§  445,  447).  True,  we  cannot  but  o[)pose 
the  view  that  sets  them  in  the  category  of  Old  Testament 
saints  and  moral  exemplars.  Yet  we  must  admire  the 
independence,  enterprise,  and  success  with  which  these 
early  leaders  of  the  race  broke  through  the  force  of  tradition 
and  custom  and  hewed  out  new  paths  feu-  themselves,  thus 
becoming  the  [)rototypes  and  forerunners  oi  the  religious 
leaders  who  gave  character  to  the  later  Israel.  And  tliis 
they  did  most  conspicuously  in  their  faith  and  worship. 
If  they  Avere  historical  characters,  Jehovah  was  their  God, 
or  at  least  their  supreme  divinity.  The  narrative  is  con- 
sistent in  showing  how  they  came  to  discard  ancestor- 
worship  and  strange  deities  generally  (Gen.  xxxv.  2  ff.). 
§  902.  Such  adherence  to  Jehovah  did  not  of  itself 
constitute  morality.  It  was  merely  a  ceremonial,  and,  as 
it  would  appear  from  the  histoiy  of  Jacob,  sometimes  a 
purely  selfish  form  of  primitive  religion.  But  we  are  not 
seeking  merely  for  evidences  of  high  moral  sentiment  and 
achievement.  What  we  desire  is  an  explanation  of  the 
morality  afterward  characteristic  of  Israel.  And  here,  as 
it  would  seem,  we  have  an  essential  antecedent.  While 
it  is  questionable  whether  in  any  age,  or  under  any  form 
of  civilization,  a  deep  and  true  moralitj^can  be  developed 
except  u[)on  the  foundation,  or  with  the  aid,  of  a  religious 
sanction,  it  is  certain  that  among  a  [)eople  such  as  ancient 
Israel  religion  is  the  only  basis  of  any  moralit}-  worthy 
the  name.  Where  industrial  pursuits  were  maintained 
systematically,  if  at  all,  by  exclusive  hereditaiv  guilds; 
where  commerce  was  confined  to  travelling  merchants  and 
occasional  caravans;  where  no  political  system  above  the 
assembly  of  the  elders  had  ever  been  devised,  the  indus- 
trial, or  commercial,  or  political  moialitj'  that  has  formed 
the  precarious  support  of  the  great  western  civilizations 
was  beyond  attainment,  as  it  was  beyond  imagination. 


Ch.  IV,  §tK54      IM'DE   VIRTUES  OF  THE  JUDGES 


93 


To  either  national  or  individual  morality  a  long  antece- 
dent process  of  discipline  is  a  prerequisite.  To  Israel 
such  a  disciplitio  couhi  only  come  through  the  religion 
whose  feehle  yet  sure  beginnings  were  made  by  the  fathers 
before  the  perilous  adventure  was  made  of  the  migration 
to  Eg3[)t.  The  strenuous  adherence,  even  b3'a  lialf-blind 
and  groping  instinct,  to  Jehovah  as  the  tribal  God  was  of 
itself  an  inward  exercise  that  had  a  moral  quality  of  its 
own.  80  true  is  tliat  saying  which  has  transfigured  the 
primitive  and  rudimentary  faith  of  the  founder  of  the  race: 
"And  he  trusted  in  Jehovah,  and  he  reckoned  it  to  him 
as  righteousness  "  (Gen.  xv.  6). 

§  903.  What  do  we  find  to  be  the  moral  features  of 
Hebrew  society  in  the  period  of  the  judges?  Did  any 
decisive  changes  take  place  in  the  community  of  Israel 
wliicli  would  tend  to  develop  the  national  and  individual 
conscience  and  make  it  a  controlling  force  in  speech  and 
act  as  between  Hebrew  and  Hebrew,  and  Hebrew  and 
foreigner?  Were  the  three  prime  qualities,  rectitude, 
chastity,  and  magnanimity,  largely  exemplified?  How 
did  the  occupations  of  the  people  and  their  general  social 
environment  affect  them?  It  must  be  confessed  that  the 
virtues  most  likely  to  be  encouraged  were  those  of  the 
heroic  or  semi-barbarous  ty[)e.  Courage,  endurance, 
lidelity  to  clan,  family,  and  companions  in  arms,  nuist 
have  been  often  and  signall}^  displayed.  The  long 
struggle  with  the  native  Canaanites,  over  wide  are.as  or 
in  isolated  holdings,  for  the  pr.ssession  of  fortresses,  fer- 
tile valleys  and  plains,  vineyards  and  olive  groves,  or 
with  various  swann.s  of  foreign  invaders,  played  a  prin- 
cipiil  i)art  in  moulding  the  Ileljrew  temper  into  strength, 
elasticity,  and  hardness.  It  was  this  discipline  that  gave 
to  Israel  the  resisting  and  recuperative  power  which  was 
and  is  the  marvel  of  the  ancient  and  modern  world. 

§  904.  Not  ver}'  much  can  be  said  of  influences  favour- 
able to  the  development  of  the  rarer  and  more  precious 
moral  endowments  of  a  people.     In  a  community  trained 


■  »^**w.t,  '^^w-rf.'— i*-~C^i»V.CTU^^^I«*TT^51|;.T,1fl'(  'C^^^ 


^^MIPI 


94 


THEACIIERY  AND  UNCHASTITY 


Book  IX 


to  irregular  warfare,  swift  reprisal,  deadly  revenge,  little 
stimulus  could  be  afforded  to  any  latent  or  incipient  open- 
ness or  candour  which  might  have  been  educed  in  the  more 
peaceful  occupations  of  earlier  days.  Ehud  (Jud.  iii.) 
can  be  a  moral  hero  only  to  those  who  hold  that  no  means 
are  reprehensible  which  can  secure  a  desirable  end.  Like 
his,  but  nuich  more  treacherous,  was  the  act  of  Jael,  the 
wife  of  Heber  the  Kenite.  In  it  we  have  not  only  gross 
deception,  but  a  violation  of  the  laws  of  hospitality,  which, 
when  it  has  once  been  freely  offered,  is  inviolable,  accord- 
ing to  all  inter-tribal  usage.  The  outrage  was  heightened 
by  the  circumstance  expressly  recorded  (Jud.  iv.  17)  that 
an  alliance  actually  subsisted  between  the  half-Israel- 
itish  Kenites  and  the  followers  of  the  Canaanitish  king. 
Moreover,  the  splendid  lyric  which  celebrates  the  triumph 
of  Israel  over  the  last  great  combination  of  the  Canaanites 
counts  Jael  blessed  above  all  women  who  dwell  in  tents 
(Jud.  V.  24),  because  she  had  come  to  the  help  of  Jeho- 
vah (cf.  V.  23)  by  deluding  into  fatal  security  an  enemy 
of  his  i)eople. 

§  0G5.  Such  cases  are  characteristic  of  the  times  and  the 
peoi)ie,  and  so  stand  out  boldly  in  the  record.  How  was 
it  in  this  period  with  the  virtue  of  chastity?  A  sample 
or  two  will  suffice  to  show  that  the  standard  of  morals 
had  not  been  raised  during  this  later  period.  Gideon, 
one  of  the  best-approved  leadcs  of  Israel,  had  not  only 
many  wives,  but  a  concubine  as  well.  What  we  call 
lust  in  Mohammed  we  can  only  extenuate  in  Gideon  on 
the  ground  that  he  lived  in  a  remoter  age.  Jc[)hthah 
Avas  the  son  of  a  harlot.  Samson  resorted  to  harlots  as  a 
matter  of  habit.  Delilah,  in  spite  of  her  Hebrew  name, 
miiy  have  been  a  Philistine.  But  the  Baal  worship  which 
was  rife  in  most  of  Israel  during  this  whole  period  must 
have  brought  with  it  its  due  measure  of  licentiousness 
more  or  less  professional.  Concubinage  was  but  one 
remove  from  harlotry  (Jud.  xix.  1  ff.).  A  still  darker 
shadow  is  seen  to  rest  upon  at  least  a  portion  of  the  land 


Ch.  IV,  §  967 


ALTRUISTIC    VIRTUKS 


06 


in  tlie  prevalence  of  the  worse  than  bestial  crime  in  the 
city  of  Gibeah  (xix.  22).  Israel,  as  a  whole,  was  at  last 
shocked  into  horror  and  indignation.  But  the  succeed- 
ing narrative,  ending  with  the  rough  and  ready  method 
of  securing  wives  by  capture  (xxi.  21  ff. ),  recalls  vividly 
the  essential  spirit  of  the  people  and  the  age,  their  primi- 
tive habits  and  manners,  and  their  rudimentary  conception 
of  the  saving  virtues  of  society. 

§  9GG.  An  aspect  scarcely  more  favourable  is  presented 
by  the  practice  of  the  altruistic  virtues.  At  least,  the 
book  of  Jvulges  gives  no  suggestion  of  their  prevalence. 
It  is  to  be  admitted  that  allusions  to  the  gentler  side  of 
life  and  conduct  are  hardly  to  be  expected  in  the  memorials 
of  a  rude  and  warlike  age,  which  naturally  record  only 
extreme  instances.  And  among  the  larger  liouseholds  in 
the  more  settled  districts,  particularly  in  the  later  days 
of  the  judges,  there  were  doubtless  many  manifestations 
of  neighbourly  kindness  and  perhaps  even  of  chivalrous 
generosity.  The  institution  of  the  f/oel  especially  gave 
scope  and  occasion  for  actions  of  the  latter  class.  While 
in  the  rudeness  and  savagery  of  the  times  the  services  of 
the  protector  of  kinship  were  pejhaps  most  fre([uently  in 
demand  as  an  avenger  of  blood  (I'^x.  xxi.  12  ff.),  the 
necessities  of  unfortunate  kinsfolks,  particularly  of  widows 
and  orphans,  must  have  evoked  innate  feelings  of  compas- 
sion and  sympathy  in  many  a  h.ciut.  Such  a  traditional 
picture  as  that  which  is  presented  at  the  close  of  the  book 
of  lluth  can  scarcely  represent  an  isolated  instance.  It  is 
not  to  be  supposed,  howtjver,  that  this  is  an  indication  of 
the  prevailing  type  of  manners. 

§  907.  It  was  scarcely  possible  that  anj'  essential 
change  in  the  national  morals  could  take  place  during  the 
historical  period  innnediately  following  the  judges.  Yet 
the  early  vicissitudes  of  the  kingdom  had  a  great  deal  to 
do  with  building  uji  the  national  cliaracter.  And  it  was 
especially  the  new  spirit  infused  into  the  peoi)le  by  the 
personality  and  achievements  of  David  that  prepared  the 


i'.  . 


w 


9(5 


UNITED   ISRAEL   AND  THE   TEMPLE 


Book  IX 


way  for  that  larger  nationalism  which  made  possible  an 
historic  Israel  and  is  even  yet  not  extinct  in  Judaism. 
The  predominant  note  of  the  rise  of  the  monarchy  is  patri- 
otism. The  deliverance  of  the  individual  family  groups, 
the  first  thought  of  the  beleaguered  clansmen,  was  found 
to  depend  upon  common  action  against  the  Philistines. 
The  idea  of  a  united  Israel  was  first  realized  under  Saul 
at  the  instance  of  the  prophet-priest-judge  Samuel.  The 
rising  tide  of  loyalty  to  Jehovah  and  his  cause,  as  against 
the  aliens  and  their  gods,  swelled  by  the  first  successes 
of  Saul  and  still  more  by  the  lieroic  daring  of  Jonathan, 
was  checked  by  the  king's  mental  and  moral  collapse; 
it  retreated  with  the  defection  of  David  and  the  ensuing 
intestine  strife;  it  fell  to  its  lowest  ebb  with  the  tragedy 
of  (jrilboa.  The  accession  of  David  to  the  tottering 
throne,  and  his  steady  advance  to  preiiminence,  first 
within  Israel  itself  and  thereafter  in  Palestine  and  the 
M'liole  of  the  West-land,  were  the  real  making  of  Israel 
into  a  nation.  No  later  failures  or  disgrace  or  ruptures 
could  efface  the  memory  of  this  trium[)h;  nor  could  any 
subsequent  national  success  rival  it  as  an  ideal  of  kingly 
achievement  or  as  a  measure  of  Israel's  greatness. 

§  908.  There  was  now  wanting  but  one  deep  common 
source  of  inspiration,  one  cardinal  element  of  national 
solidarit}', — a  central,  dominant  sanctuary.  This  idea, 
cherished  so  fondly  b}'  David,  was  realized  in  the  temple 
of  Solomon.  Thus  were  established  at  last  the  main 
outward  conditions  of  a  permanent  state  under  the  most 
potent  of  guarantees.  But  of  far  more  enduring  impor- 
tance than  the  promise  of  political  stability,  soon  to  be 
so  rudely  disturbed,  was  the  foundation  then  laid  for 
progress  in  morality  and  for  the  practice  of  a  religion 
which  should  be  something  more  than  ceremonial  for- 
malism. The  larger  relations  of  political,  business,  and 
social  life  then  inaugurated  gradually  brought  with  them 
a  sense  of  responsibility  which  must  have  sobered  and 
steadied  the   new  self-conscious  community.     The  oath 


w 


Cii.  IV,  §  969 


THE   HEROIC  VIRTUES 


97 


or  the  vow  made  before  Jehovah  beeaine  more  binding 
Avith  the  recognition  of  his  enthronement  for  righteous- 
ness upon  Mount  Zion,  the  phice  where  lie  liad  chosen 
to  set  his  name.  It  is  not  necessary  to  inquire  now  liow 
and  when  such  claims  were  ignored  or  weakened.  We 
may  content  ourselves  with  remarking  that  while  these 
were  conditions"  essential  to  moral  advancement,  they 
might  naturally  be  expected  to  be  only  slowly  opcia- 
tive,  finding  their  true  scope  and  vindication  in  a  later 
time.  What,  however,  we  wish  particularly  to  know  is 
the  actual  moral  standing  of  the  best  men  of  Israel  in  this 
age  of  the  early  or  vmdivided  monarchy.  Examples  here 
crowd  u[)on  us,  and  we  must  limit  ourselves  in  the  choice. 
§  9(30.  Again,  we  have  to  emphasize  the  prominence 
of  the  military  or  heroic  virtues.  This  is,  in  fact,  pre- 
eminently the  heroic  age  of  Israel.  Physical  courage  was 
universal,  as  befitted  a  peoj)le  engaged  in  a  protracted  life 
and  death  struggle.  Not  to  lack  of  bravery,  but  to  want 
of  discipline,  to  the  decline  of  the  kingly  qualities  in  the 
monarch,  to  the  effect  of  panic  fear  in  a  superstitious  age, 
are  to  be  ascribed  the  half-heartedness  and  the  frequent 
retreats  of  the  armies  of  Israel  during  the  rdgiine  of 
Samuel  and  Saul.  Of  individual  prowess  every  leader 
gave  proof  during  the  whole  of  the  period.  David's 
worthies  (2  Sam.  xxiii.)  were  a  product  of  the  spirit 
that  was  now  moving  in  Israel  like  a  long  i)ent-up  flood. 
They  were  the  flower  of  that  age  of  Hebrew  chivalry. 
Nor  was  there  lacking  that  self-devotion  Avhich  in  the 
un(lisci[)lined  warfare  of  a  struggling  connnunity  is  really 
moie  heroic  than  the  most  gallant  chaige  of  a  regular 
army.  No  deed  of  daring  done  by  David's  men,  inspired 
by  his  example,  could  surpass  the  brilliant  achievement  of 
Saul's  knightly  son  at  Michmash.  A  nation  which  bred 
such  heroes  could  scarcely  hereafter  be  utterly  ignoble. 
And  in  these  actions,  the  theme  of  song  and  legend 
till  the  latest  generation,  were  indirect  occasions  of  nobler 
manners  and  purer  motives  throughout  the  moral  realm. 


m 


n 


08 


DAVID'S   DECEIT  AND  TltEACHERY. 


Book  IX 


11 "" 


w 

u 

No  man  can  risk  his  life  non-professionally  in  a  worthy 
cause  without  heing  stirred  to  the  depths  of  his  soul  by  an 
electric  thrill  which  reacts  by  moral  sympathy  through 
his  whole  spiritual  nature.  The  clods,  once  disturljed  b}' 
celestial  fire,  were  henceforth  magnetic  and  responsive  to 
the  touch  of  spiritual  forces  which  else  had  found  and 
left  them  useless  and  dead. 

§  970.  But  these  secondary  movements  had  as  yet 
scarcely  begun;  and  it  is  a  sad  descent  that  brings  us  to 
the  level  of  the  everyday  morals  of  the  earl}-  monarchy. 
The  virtue  of  veracity  seems  especially  wanting  in  the 
make-up  of  the  men  of  the  period.  For  the  sake  of  brevity 
we  shall  confine  ourselves  to  the  career  of  David.  We 
are  at  once  struck  with  the  fact  that  whenever  any  danger 
threatened,  if  a  falsehood  served  his  turn  it  was  immedi- 
ately eniplo3'ed  (1  Sam.  xix.  13  ff. ;  xx.  5  ff, ;  xxi.  2  ; 
xxvii.  10  ff. ;  2  Sam.  xv.  34).  He  deceived  friends  and 
enemies  indifferently.  It  was  especially  in  his  relations 
with  the  Philistines  that  deceit  was  S3'stematically  prac- 
tised, ranging  from  simple  disguise  to  the  grossest  of 
falsehoods.  His  affair  Avith  his  faithful  servant,  Uriah 
the  Hettite,  shows  him  at  his  worst.  Tliere  is  jirobabl}' 
no  record  of  treachery  and  lying  consistently  pursued 
that  surpasses  this  in  remorseless  cruelty  and  moi-al  Ikisc- 
ness.  If  the  narrative  contained  all  that  we  know  of 
David,  the  deed  would  have  been  universall}- regarded  as 
one  almost  unequalled  in  the  foul  and  blood-stained  annals 
of  kingly  rule.  We  may  at  any  rate  say  this  alxmt  the 
matter,  that  it  belonged  to  the  stage  in  David's  life  when 
he  was  as  yet  untouched  by  any  deep  religious  feeling. 

§  971.  In  the  relations  between  the  sexes  we  see  at 
best  no  marked  advance.  Not  to  speak  of  polygamy, 
concubinage  was  fashionable  in  the  best  families.  The 
promptness  with  which  David,  the  outlaw  chief,  espoused 
the  wife  of  the  newly  dead  Nabal,  and  with  which  David, 
the  king,  made  a  lawful  wife  of  the  widow  of  the  mur- 
dered Uriah,  speaks  plainly  of  the  subserviency  of  well- 


Cii.  IV,  §  072 


SKXrAL  VICE 


09 


bora  women.  The  act  of  Absalom,  by  whiclj  he  inochiimed 
to  all  Israel  his  usurpation  of  his  father's  rights  (2  Sam. 
xvi.  21  f.),  does  not  appear  to  have  shocked  the  moral 
sensibilities  of  his  fellow-citizens,  or  even  of  the  "elders 
of  Israel"  (2  Sam.  xvii.  4),  who  still  adhered  to  his 
cause.  In  the  more  enlightened  time  of  Solomon,  the 
increase  in  outward  i)rosperity  and  the  glamour  of  a 
brilliant  court  were  the  accompaniment  of  gross  and 
unbridled  sensuality.  David's  harem,  extensive  as  it 
was,  could  not  cf)nipare  with  that  of  Solomon.  And  one 
knows  little  of  social  history,  or  of  human  nature,  if  one 
supposes  that  the  evil  of  excessive  self-indulgence  was 
contined  to  the  recreant  who  sjit  on  the  throne,  and  who 
in  these  vital  matters  was  a  law  unto  himself.  Courtiers 
and  nobles,  and  the  Avealthy  and  fashionable  generally, 
Avere  as  certain  then  as  they  are  now  to  imitate  and  rival 
the  sins  and  follies  of  a  prince.  Nor  was  sexual  vice 
confined  to  the  legalized  license  of  polygamy  and  con- 
cubinage. The  worship  of  the  foreign  deities  introduced 
by  Solomon  along  with  his  heathen  wives  of  necessity 
included  religious  prostitution.  True,  we  still  have  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  many  daughters  of  Hebrew  families 
gave  themselves  to  this  or  to  any  form  of  illegitimate  vice, 
"for  no  such  thing  ought  to  be  done  in  Israel "  (2  Sam. 
xiii.  12).  But  Ashtoreth,  the  goddess  of  theSidonians  or 
Phoenicians  (1  K.  xi.  5),  could  not  enjoy  the  royal  patron- 
age without  enforcing  the  usages  inseparable  from  her 
debasing  cult. 

§  972.  What  shall  be  said  of  the  practice  of  the  altiu- 
istic  virtues  during  the  earlier  times  of  the  monarchy  ? 
The  imagination  summons  up  at  once  the  figure  of  the 
heroic  and  magnanimous  Jonathan.  An  age  which  pro- 
duced a  man  so  unique  in  nobility  of  soul  should  not  be 
called  quite  morally  barren.  We  are  seeking,  however, 
for  cases  of  sympathy  with  the  poor  and  oppressed,  the 
friendless  and  the  weak,  and  of  the  relaxation  of  the  i)iti- 
less  code  of  revenge  upon  family,  or  personal,  or  national 


=  /: 


f 


100 


BLOOD-RKVENGE   AND  TRIBALISM 


Book  IX 


enemies.  Of  what  was  done  in  private  we  know  little. 
The  temper  of  representative  men  may  best  be  judged  of 
by  their  conduct  toward  their  rivals  or  foes.  David's 
treatment  of  the  Moabites  (2  Sam.  viii.  2)  and  of  the 
Ammonites  (2  Sam.  xii.  31)  was  a  war  measure,  and  was 
neither  better  nor  worse  than  that  which  the  Assyrian 
kings  before  and  after  his  time  boasted  of  inflicting  upon 
obstinate  rebels.  The  claims  of  blood  revenge  were 
enforced  as  remorselessly  as  in  the  days  of  Gideon  (Jud. 
viii.  18  fT.).  The  circle  of  leading  men  that  stood  nearest 
to  David  suffered  particularly  from  the  law  of  reprisal. 
To  his  account  must  be  reckoned  the  pitiful  fate  of  Riz- 
pah,  the  daughter  of  Aiah,  and  of  her  innocent  children, 
done  to  a  shameful  death  as  the  victim  of  a  blood  feud. 
True  it  is  that  repentance  here  again  manifested  itself,  and 
that  he  sought  to  quiet  tlie  S(Hi1  of  the  comfortless  mother, 
and  to  reunite  in  Sheol  the  distracted  ghosts  of  the  family 
he  had  supi)lanted  (2  Sam.  xxi.  11  ff.). 

§  973.  It  is  now  time,  however,  to  draw  some  general 
conclusions  as  to  that  portion  of  Israel's  history  which  we 
have  been  permitted  to  survey.  In  the  first  place,  we  see 
how  morality  still  moved  and  worked  its  Avay  within  the 
sphere  of  the  family,  the  clan,  and  the  tribe.  Its  sanc- 
tions sprang  from  tlie  beliefs  of  the  community  rather  than 
from  the  independent  conviction  of  the  individual;  cus- 
tom ruled  rather  than  conscience,  prescription  rather  than 
self-impulsion.  One  essential  ground  of  the  limitation  is 
obvious.  Duties  and  employments  were  few  and  simple. 
These  were  prescribed  by  paternal  injunction ;  and  when 
spontaneously  assumed  they  created  no  new  conditions 
that  would  bring  intelligence  into  play  and  so  evoke  the 
moral  sense  through  the  balancing  of  conflicting  claims. 
Secondly,  the  most  striking  apparent  exceptions  to  this 
general  fact  were  the  leaders  of  the  people,  Avho  seemed 
to  strike  out  new  paths  for  themselves,  or  were  commis- 
sioned to  fulfil  higher  functions  than  any  yet  known  to 
the  nation. 


Ch.  IV,  §075  PUBLIC  TEACHKRS;   SAMUEL 


101 


§  1)74.  But  we  have  now  to  take  account  of  a  moral 
factor  of  the  lirst  importance  ;  I  inean  the  public  teachers. 
Tlie  great  popular  leaders  from  the  time  of  the  earliest 
judges  till  the  end  of  the  luulivided  kingdom,  had  very 
little  to  do  with  the  moral  education  of  the  nation.  The 
judges  themselves  appear  to  have  done  little  to  rectify 
popular  misconduct.  Nor  were  the  priests,  whose  dutii'S 
included  also  the  judicial  function  (§  585  f.),  conspicuous 
for  their  high  sense  of  moral  obligation.  The  sons  of 
Eli  and  the  sons  of  Samuel,  who  came  into  ollice  as  a 
matter  of  course  by  hereditary  succession,  are  much  more 
likely  to  have  represented  the  average  priest  and  judge 
than  their  fathers,  who  are  singled  out  for  special  distinc- 
tion. What  we  learn  of  the  influence  of  the  religious 
olHcials  conies  out  naturally  in  their  bearing  toward  the 
leading  men  of  the  time.  In  this  matter  two  interesting 
points  declare  themselves.  First,  we  notice  that  no  inter- 
ference is  made  with  the  conduct  of  any  influential  man 
till  the  time  of  the  kings.  Second,  it  is  a  new  order  of 
men  who  attempt  a  reformation  in  public  morals.  These 
men  were  the  prophets. 

§  975.  What,  then,  was  the  character  of  this  epoch- 
making  intervention  by  the  prophets  ?  The  first  instance 
is  that  of  Samuel  in  his  role  of  mentor  and  censor  to  King 
Saul.  And  here  we  are  surprised  to  find  that  he  does  not 
appear  to  have  intervened  in  questions  of  morality  at  all. 
His  only  recorded  protest  against  Saul's  conduct  is  made 
on  the  ground  of  disobedience  to  an  arbitrary  command 
(1  Sam.,  chap.  xv.).  When  Saul  spared  Agag  and  the 
best  of  the  spoil,  it  cannot  be  maintained  that  he  did  what 
was  wrong  in  itself.  Unfortunately  we  can,  on  the  other 
hand,  hardly  visit  with  stern  condemnation  the  terrible 
war  of  extermination  waged  by  Israel.  Such  conflicts  — 
blood  feuds  on  a  larger  scale  —  were  the  order  of  the  day 
among  the  neighbouring  peoples  of  the  time,  and  Israel 
had  suffered  more  than  Amalek  in  the  long  series  of  re- 
prisals.    Nor  can  we  put  Saul's  comparative  moderation 


'■'-  II 


I'  ;1 


m 


102 


SAMUEL  AND   NATHAN 


RnoK  IX 


to  the  credit  of  his  Immanity.  His  preservation  of  Agag 
was  too  mueli  a  departure  from  the  prevailing  usages  of 
war  to  have  been  intended  for  more  than  a  temporary 
purpose.  On  the  whole,  it  would  appear  that  the  rebuke 
to  Saul,  and  the  terrible  penalty  annexed  thereto,  were 
inflicted  not  on  the  ground  of  the  inherent  wrongfulness 
of  his  acts,  but  because  he  had  not  deferred  to  the  pro- 
phetic word. 

§  970.  Samuel's  significance  generally,  in  the  history  of 
Old  Testament  morals,  may  be  thus  stated  :  He  is  the 
first  in  the  long  list  of  the  leaders  of  Israel  whose  conduct 
in  fundamental  matters  of  morality  is  brought  directly 
into  view  (1  Sam.  xii.  3).  The  last  of  the  judges,  he  is 
the  first  the  character  of  whose  administration  of  justice 
is  s^joken  of  at  all.  He  tolerated  the  institution  of  the 
monarchy,  but  made  it  the  prime  essential  of  the  charac- 
ter of  the  king  that  he  should  bow  to  the  will  of  Jehovah, 
and  to  Ids  representative,  the  prophet-priest.  He  virtu- 
ally founded  the  prophetic  guilds,  the  chief  conservative 
influence  in  the  life  of  northern  Israel.  His  services  to 
morality  were  great,  but  mainly  indirect  and  potential. 

§  977.  A  distinct  advance  along  one  line  was  made  by 
the  next  kingly  mentor,  the  prophet  Nathan.  His  rebuke 
of  David  for  his  most  atrocious  crime  goes  to  the  founda- 
tion of  the  moral  principle  of  conduct.  As  his  parable 
shows,  it  looks  at  David's  sin  in  the  light  of  his  relation 
to  his  environment ;  it  shows  the  disturbance  (or  wrong) 
therel)y  occasioned  in  the  system  of  which  he  was  the 
moral  centre.  To  stigmatize  a  sin  as  a  sin  on  account  of 
its  selfishness  was  something  new  in  the  recorded  history 
of  the  world.  True,  the  outrage  was  so  obvious  that  it 
could  not  well  escape  challenge  ;  but  it  is  just  one  of  the 
providential  occasions  of  moral  evolution  that  men  and 
communities  should  be  startled  into  a  sense  for  better 
things  by  a  sudden  revelation  of  the  effect  of  their 
offences.  Such  a  case  is  isolated,  to  be  sure,  in  the  moral 
ministry  of  the  prophets  of  the  time.     But  the  crime  was 


Cii.  IV.  §  5)71)  SOLOMON   AND    IIIS  CENSORS 


103 


rank  ami  grievous,  aiul  as  it  struck  at  the  sanctity  and 
peace  of  the  home  of  the  cominf)n  man  in  Israel  it  was 
made  monumental.  Tiie  rule  that  the  sins  and  follies  of 
a  monarcii  excite  emulation  ratiier  than  rei)ulsion,  linds 
in  this  instance,  at  least,  a  wholesome  exception. 

§  1)78.  It  is  remarkable  that  no  prophet  appears  as  a 
censor  of  morals  till  the  time  of  the  divided  kinj^dom 
with  the  exception  of  (lad,  who  acted  as  the  minister  of 
Jehovah  in  connection  with  David's  ambitious  scheme  to 
take  a  census  of  Israel.  On  the  other  hand,  we  iind  in 
the  person  of  Nathan  the  prophetic  influence  wielded  in 
behalf  of  the  cruel  and  treacherous  intrigue  through 
which  the  rivals  of  Solomon  were  put  out  of  the  way  (2  K. 
i.).  The  moral  paradox  is  solved  when  we  consider  that 
the  paramount  interest  was  the  preservation  of  the  state, 
in  the  furthering  of  which  the  individual  was  made  of  lit- 
tle account.  Thereafter  Solomon  seems  to  have  (lis[)ensed 
with  proi)hetic  help  and  guidance.  His  only  religious 
achievement,  the  building  of  the  temple,  being  an  affair 
of  worship  and  ritual,  was  done  under  the  auspices  of  the 
priests.  On  the  whole,  his  reign  was  probably  more  harm- 
ful to  public  and  private  morals  than  that  of  any  other 
king  of  either  Israel  or  Judah,  with  the  possible  exception 
of  Manasseh. 

§  971).  It  is  significant,  however,  that  the  secession  of 
northern  Israel  was  instigated  by  a  prophet  of  Jehovah 
(1  K.  xi.  29  if.).  Among  the  considerations  that  impelled 
him  was  doubtless  the  fact  that  Solomon's  extravagance 
and  exactions  were  injuring  Israel  as  a  whole  and  mak- 
ing the  predominance  of  Judah  a  national  curse. ^  He  thus 
follows  in  the  line  of  Nathan  and  Gad  (§  977  f.).  Hut 
what  Judah  thus  lost  in  moral  chai*acter  and  prestige  as 
compared  with  the  "  Ten  Tribes,"  it  more  than  made  up 
finally  through  the  possession  of  a  temple  free  from  image- 


1  Notice  also  that  Ahijah  was  of  Shiloh,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  terri- 
tory of  the  rival  and  much-wronged  tribe  of  Ephraim. 


? 


■  i 


_  ,wi 


i% 


104 


MOHALITY   IN   NORTHERN  ISRAEL 


Book  IX 


worship  ;  while  the  semi-ichihitry  instigated  by  Jerohoiim 
I,  and  the  political  unsettleiuent  of  his  kingdom,*  with 
its  accompaniment  of  intrigue,  proscription,  and  murder, 
defeated  the  worthy  ends  aimed  at  in  the  revolution. 

§  9S0.  We  thus  see  a  growth  in  moral  sensibility 
among  the  religious  leaders  of  Israel,  and  we  also  dis- 
cern the  principle  of  its  develo[)ment.  It  was  the  harm 
done  to  the  people  of  Jehovah  which  awakened  a  sense 
of  the  wrath  of  Jehovah  himself.  This  can  hardly  be 
called  as  yet  a  genuine  sense  of  sin  ;  for  in  the  first  i)laee, 
the  feeling  aroused  was  fear  rather  than  sorrow,  and,  in 
the  second  place,  it  was  as  members  of  the  community 
rather  than  as  individuals  that  the  responsibility  was 
felt.  Yet  here  was  the  germ  of  spiritual  morality,  and 
this  was  the  region  in  which  it  unfolded  itself,  for  only 
thus  could  that  eonsciimsness  of  wrong-doing  be  awakened 
which  is  of  the  essence  of  the  saving  repentance  that 
seeks  and  gains  forgiveness.  But  the  story  is  a  long 
one,  and  we  must  be  content  if  we  can  follow  its  leading 
motives. 

§  081.  Our  next  glimpse  of  moral  progress  in  Israel  is 
gained  from  the  memorable  reign  of  Ahab.  The  tumultu- 
ous times  of  the  first  dynasties  were  over,  and  Omri  had 
made  himself  strong  at  home  and  abroad  (§  212).  His  son 
came  to  the  kingdom  as  a  nuitter  of  course,  and  the  sense 
of  power  without  responsibility  (1  K.  xxi.  7),  the  typical 
Oriental  absolutism,  bore  its  natural  fruits.  There  was 
nothing  upon  which  he  might  not  lay  his  hand,  not  even 
the  patrimony  of  one  of  the  people  of  Jehovah.  When 
he  seized  the  estate  of  Naboth  the  wrong  was  irreligion, 
and  therefore  immorality.  Jehovah  w.as  the  owner  of  the 
land,  and  Naboth  was  his  tenant  (§  580).  Besides,  the 
patrimony  was  a  sacred  trust  for  his  family  (xxi.  3), 
where  rested  the  dust  of  his  ancestors  under  the  guardian- 
ship of  Jehovah. 

1  Cf.  Monteflore,  Ilihbert  Lectures  (1892),  p.  85  f. 


m 


Cii.  IV,  §0H;5  AHAU,    XAIJOTII    AND    ELIJAH 


105 


§  982.  Very  j)rubiil)ly  this  act  of  oppression  and  ])rof- 
anatioii  did  not  stand  alone  in  tlie  rei^Mi  or  tinjo  of  Aiiab. 
lUit,  like  the  great  transgression  of  David,  it  was  becanse 
it  ended  in  uu  api)alling  tragedy  that  it  became  nionu- 
niental.  The  vengeance  denonneed  against  the  ofYen<U'r  is 
a  nieasnre  of  the  offence.  This  is  a  rare  historic  occasion. 
It  makes  ns  feel  at  one  with  the  outraged  jjcople  of  Israel. 
As  we  shudder  with  their  horror  at  the  deed,  we  follow 
them  with  eager  sympath}'  in  their  gradual  api)reciation  of 
its  essential  wickedness.  Indignation  at  the  consi)iracv, 
the  judicial  murder,  the  robbery,  was  followed  by  a  moral 
revulsion  at  the  enormity  of  the  misdeed.  It  was  the 
crime  against  the  connnunity  which  stirred  the  common 
heart.  Every  freeman  in  Israel  was  for  the  moment  a 
Naboth  in  imagination,  at  the  mercy  of  a  rapacious  king 
and  a  cruel,  lustful  queen.  Ordinary  petty  wrongs  done 
to  persons  or  to  proi)erty  were  a  matter  of  course  frt)m 
the  days  of  old.  They  were  the  mere  trickling  of  a 
mountain  stream.  This  was  the  breaking  up  of  the  foun- 
tains of  the  great  deep.  The  sense  of  being  wronged 
grew  into  the  sense  of  wrong,  and  the  offence  against 
Israel  was  felt  to  be  a  sin  against  Jehovah.  It  was  the 
word  of  the  great  prophet  that  startled  the  true  Israel 
into  a  knowledge  of  itself.  The  message  came  in  thunder- 
tones,  and  between  the  strokes  gleamed  the  lightning- 
tlashes  of  revelation.  It  was  not  a  very  clear  or  sus- 
tained illumination,  but  it  served  God's  turn  and  man's 
need. 

§  983.  With  Elijah  prophecy  enlarged  its  range  and  its 
depth.  The  prophet  was  no  longer  a  mere  seer  or  oracle 
or  mentor  of  princes.  He  was  the  guardian  and  censor 
of  national  morals  ;  in  short,  a  preacher  and  teacher.  Hut, 
what  is  even  more  important  to  observe,  there  was  a  cor- 
responding advance  among  the  best  minds  and  s[)iriis  of 
his  people.  Let  us  learn,  once  for  all,  that  the  prophet 
never  stood  quite  alone,  and  that  he  was,  apart  from  his 
special  commission,  merely  a  foremost  representative  of  a 


,'ivl 


100 


A   COMMON  MORAL  INTEREST 


Book  IX 


class  or  society  or  school.  We  are  warned  of  the  danger 
of  overlooking  this  obvious  sociological  and  psychological 
principle  by  the  reminder  which  was  addressed  to  Elijah 
liimself  at  the  very  opening  of  this  new  era  of  prophecy 
(1  K.  xix.  18). 1  The  essential  thing  for  the  future  was 
that  from  this  time  onward  there  was  a  worthy  common 
cause  and  common  interest,  and  a  party  in  the  state  that 
stood  for  the  rights  of  the  defenceless  and  the  oppressed 
on  the  ground  of  religion  and  justice,  and  in  whose  con- 
sciousness the  practical  conflicts  of  rights  and  wrongs 
wrought  out  a  sense  of  the  necessary  antithesis  of  right 
and  wrong. 

§  084.  The  fortunes  of  this  class  or  party  in  their  rela- 
tion to  society  and  public  life  have  already  been  sketched 
(§  ")97  ff.).  The  pei'petual  antagonism  and  ever  widen- 
ing chasm  between  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  oppressor 
and  the  oppressed,  the  wicked  and  the  pious,  are  depicted 
in  letters  of  flame  b}'  Amos,  Ilosea,  Isaiah,  and  Micah, 
and  here  we  need  not  reproduce  tlie  familiar  picture. 
What  concerns  us  now  is  to  see  how  the  idea  of  moral 
responsibility,  once  awakened,  was  developed  up  to  the 
time  of  Josiah.  For  this  end  we  cannot  do  better  than  sum 
up  the  essential  conditions  of  moral  progress,  giving  first 
those  which  are  inward  or  subjective,  and  then  those  which 
are  subjective  and  external.  The  summary  necessarily  con- 
sists in  part  of  a  resume  of  previous  observations. 

§  085.  1.  A  purer  and  loftier  conception  of  the  charac- 
ter of  Jehovah.  Morality  has  never  progressed  in  any 
community  without  the  stimulus  of  a  religious  sanction. 
Men  have  looked  to  their  gods  or  God  as  requiring  from 
them  the  most  solemn  duties  of  their  lives.  Moreover, 
something  besiues  mere  ceremonial  service  is  always 
thought  to  ijc  demanded.  Even  where  the  crudest  forms 
of  faith  and  worship  prevail,  and  where  morality  in  th 


1  "Seven  thousancr'  is  merely  a  very  general  number,  and  possibly 
stands  here  for  a  much  larger  sum  of  faithful  adherents  of  Jehovah. 


Cii.  IV,  §  987      IDEALS   AM)   WORSHIP  OF  THE   DEITY 


107 


pufsitive  sense  can  hardly  be  predicated  of  tlie  votaries, 
such  duties  as  are  incumbent  on  them  (tliat  is,  whatever 
has  the  character  of  solemn  obligation,  the  motive  of  all 
moral  action)  are  regarded  as  the  will  of  the  supernatural 
being  who  is  the  head  and  patron  of  the  community. 
And  ann>ng  the  Semites  deference  to  the  will  of  the  deity 
is  usually  absr>lute.  As  their  vocabulary  indicates,  they 
had  really  no  "will"  of  their  own  :  the  only  real  agents 
in  the  world  were  their  divinities.  This  conception  is 
both  cause  and  effect  of  their  singular  religiousness.  It 
explains  also  their  exdusiveness,  their  fanaticism,  their 
deadly  persistency.  Oiven  a  wrong  or  debasing  view  of 
the  desire  of  the  deity  and  they  are  the  most  hopelessly 
intractable  and  noxious  of  mortals.  Given  a  lofty  and 
inspiring  view  of  the  deity  and  they  become  the  elect  of 
their  species.  This  is  a  master-key  to  Hebrew  Prophet- 
ism,  Christianity,  and  Mohammedanism.  Hence  in  pro- 
portion as  the  conception  of  the  character  of  the  presiding 
and  informing  deity  is  raised  and  refined  the  nature  of 
his  requirements  is  correspondingly  purified  and  exalted. 
That  is,  moral  motive  and  conduct  change  for  the  better. 

§  980.  2.  A  divorce  between  the  worship  of  the  single 
and  only  true  God  and  the  adoration  or  service  of  any  and 
all  other  objects  of  devotion.  This  is  only  accom[)lished  jis 
the  individual  learns  by  experience  the  emptiness  and 
s[)iritual  unsatisfactoriness  of  false  worship  —  not  merely 
the  helplessness  of  the  false  gods  ;  because  to  a  people 
gradually  emerging  from  superstition  such  a  fact  is  not 
so  easily  demonstrated.  With  this  experience  goes  the 
practical  observation  that  God  does  not  always  punish  his 
enemies  directly,  but  that  he  does  reward  those  who  fear 
him  and  <lo  his  will  :  the  sense  of  the  ncn  and  the  nr.Jai^l 
of  Jehovah  ;  th«j  completion  of  the  formula,  "Surely  (Jod 
is  good  to  Israel,"  by  the  addition,  "to  such  as  are  pure 
in  heart"  (l*s.  Ixxiii,  1). 

§  987.  3.  In  this  way  a  new  and  higher  conception  of 
society  is  eventually  gained.     The   ideal   of  the   social 


i 


r 


108 


PERSONAL  TRIAL  ;   NATIONAL   UNITY         Book  IX 


11 


order  is  no  longer  the  family,  the  clan,  the  tribe,  or  even 
the  organized  nation,  but  the  peojile  of  Jehovah.  A  new 
community  arises  from  the  riving  of  the  old,  containing 
the  germs  of  indefinite  progress  and  expansion. 

§  988.  4.  On  the  side  of  conduct  there  must  be  a  practice 
of  the  common  virtues  which  are  at  once  tlie  mainstay  of 
the  social  order  and  the  expression  of  tlu;"\vill  of  Jehovah: 
honesty,  chastity,  mercy,  and  helpfulness.  These  and 
other  essential  virtues  can  only  be  maintained  along  with 
the  vindication  of  the  lofty  character  and  the  pure  wor- 
ship of  Jehovah.  This  vindication  can  be  accomplislied 
only  after  and  through  an  inevitable  prolonged  struggle 
between  parties  in  the  community  and  the  state.  Only 
by  suffering,  discipline,  and  the  enduring  of  wrong  can 
the  princi]des  of  a  party  of  righteousness  be  put  to  the 
proof  and  finally  secure  a  moral  triumph  :  — 

"  There  is  no  gain  except  by  loss, 
There  is  no  life  except  by  death ; 
There  is  no  glory  but  by  shame, 
No  justice  but  by  taking  blame." 

By  adherence  under  stress  of  trial  to  the  true  worship  of 
Jehovah  and  the  practice  of  "  righteousness,"  which  is  the 
obligation  and  test  of  his  service  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
by  an  observation  of  the  lives  and  fates  of  the  opposing 
party  in  church  and  state,  idolatry  or  mixed  worship  plus 
immorality  —  luxury,  greed,  sensuality,  cruelty  —  is  con- 
tinually made  more  odious  and  disreputable. 

§  989.  Some  of  theacc(mipanying  or  cooperant  external 
conditions  are:  1.  National  unification.  This  was  in  a 
measure  secured  by  the  kingdom.  Only  by  some  such 
assimihition  could  the  tribal  habits,  restricted  views  of 
obligation,  local  prejudices  and  antipathies,  arbitrary 
administration  of  justice,  be  to  any  considerable  degree 
done  away.  Terrible  evils  came  with  the  kingdom.  liut 
by  it  the  necessary  antithesis  of  good  and  bad,  pure  an«l 
impure,  righteousness  and  injustice,  was  brought  to  self- 


Ch.  IV,  §  001      BUSINESS   TRAINING  ;  CLASS  FKELIXG 


109 


consciousness  in  an  influential  party  loyal  to  Jehovah  and 
his  cause. 

§  990.  2.  Industrial  and  commercial  development. 
This  undoubtedly  fosters  the  greed  and  selfishness  of  the 
grasping  and  covetous.  On  the  other  hand,  no  commu- 
nity becomes  honest  and  veracious  uidess  by  business  train- 
ing it  is  made  to  realize  as  a  people  the  advantages  of 
honesty  and  veracity,  and  the  evils  of  cheating  and  crook- 
edness in  matters  of  bargain  and  sale.  How  greatly 
such  convictions  Avere  needed  may  be  suggested  by  the 
l)usiness  habits  of  any  nomadic  or  semi-nomadic  com- 
munity in  the  East.  The  Hebrews  did  not  have  this  aid 
to  morality  in  full  measure  till  the  Babylonian  exile 
(§  181U  ff.).  A  concomitant  advantage  is  the  possession 
of  lixed  property,  which  develops  character  by  the  respon- 
sibility of  ownership  and  trusteesliip,  and  steadies  the 
practical  pur])ose  and  endeavour  of  business  life. 

§  991.  3.  Social  changes,  resulting  in  the  creation  of 
privileged  classes  of  the  ricli  and  powerful,  including 
kings  and  nobles.  Everywhere,  but  especially  in  Oriental 
countries,  such  changes  develop  the  worst  passions  and 
instincts  of  hunum  nature  —  selfishness,  cruelty,  self-com- 
placent indifference  to  suffering  and  wrong.  These 
classes  also  adhered  to  and  patronized  tlie  forms  of  false 
and  mixed  worship  which  minister  to  lust  and  fashionable 
vices  and  pleasures.  On  the  other  hand,  the  plain-living 
votaries  of  Jehovah  had  their  numbers  chietly  augmented 
from  the  ranks  of  the  jjoor  and  the  oppressed.  The  gulf 
1)etween  the  two  classes  became  steadily  wider  and 
deeper.  The  true  nature,  the  essential  character,  of  tlie 
antithesis  became  better  appreciated.  Vagiu;  and  abstract 
conceptions  of  the  relations  of  Jehovah  to  his  people  were 
replaced  by  a  concrete  realization  of  his  power  to  help,  to 
sustain,  to  uplift,  lilind  reliance  upon,  or  dread  of,  his 
power  was  mitigated  and  neutralized  by  the  consciousness 
of  his  love  and  grace.  The  prosperity  of  the  wicked, 
accompanied  as  it  was  by  hateful  and  injurious  conduct, 


m 


110 


A   CENTRAL   SHRINE  ;   MORAL  TEACHING       Book  IX 


was  now  less  envied.  Jehovah  put  gladness  into  the 
heart  of  his  followers  more  than  others  had  when  their 
corn  and  their  wine  increased  (Ps.  iv.  7). 

§  992.  4.  A  concentration  of  the  national  worship. 
The  essential  evil  of  the  local  sanctuaries  Avas  that  tlie 
"  high  places  "  were  infected  with  nature  worship  in  one 
or  more  degrading  forms  ;  and  that  such  associations, 
hased  on  tradition  and  habit,  and  falling  in  with  natural 
inclination,  were  ineradicable.  In  northern  Israel  such  a 
centralizing  system  was  never  accomplislied.  In  Judah  it 
was  favoured  by  many  circumstances,  and  wlien  secured  by 
a  reforming  monarch  the  prestige  of  the  central  sanctuary 
made  it  perpetual.  Thus,  in  spite  of  fre(pient  and  gross 
debasement  of  the  national  worship,  a  solidarity  of  senti- 
ment, a  connnunity  of  belief,  a  cooperation  in  policy  and 
action  were  promoted  which  were  essential  to  the  progress 
of  the  cause  of  righteousness. 

§  993.  5.  An  educative  system.  This  was  mainly  sup- 
plied by  the  genuine  prophets  of  Jehovah.  Ritual  and 
ceremony  were  needed ;  and  in  Israel  they  were  not 
always  unspiritual.  JUit  the  priests  as  a  class  were 
incompetent  and  mechanical,  though  there  was  no  enmity 
between  the  two  orders,  and  the  priesthood  contributed 
signally  to  the  ranks  of  the  prophets,  as  well  as  to  the 
outward  reformation  of  the  state.  It  Avas  the  line  of  the 
prophets  that  received  and  kejjt  the  saving  truth  and 
"  passed  from  hand  to  hand  the  torch  of  life."  From  sim- 
ple and  rude  begiiuiings,  at  the  opening  of  Israel's  career 
as  a  nation,  they  maintained  the  one  essential  principle  of 
hdelity  to  Jehovah,  growing  steadily  in  inspiration, 
insight,  and  devotion.  Thus  they  became  the  light  of 
Israel  and  the  world.  But,  as  educators  of  their  [)eople, 
they  secured  no  permanently  effective  agency  till  they 
created  a  literature  under  Amos  and  his  successors,  or, 
what  is  much  the  same  thing,  until  they  reached  intui- 
tions and  conceptions  of  God  and  duty  which  were  worthy 
of  permanent  record. 


Ch.  IV,  §  995 


A  FAITHFUL   REMNANT 


111 


§  994.  The  highest  and  most  spiritiuil  of  these  condi- 
tions were  slow  and  tardy  in  coming  into  play,  and  Israel's 
moral  progress  during  this  prophetic  period  may  be  very 
sunnnarily  stated.  For  the  northern  kingdom,  besides  the 
indirect  testimony  of  J  E  (§  92(1,  930),  the  [)rinci[>al  evi- 
dence comes  from  Amos  and  Ilosea.  Of  the  nation  as  a 
whole,  no  favourable  judgment  can  be  formed.  But  for 
l)urposes  of  moral  history  discrimination  is  necessary. 
The  chief  obstacle  to  reformation  was  the  perpetuation  of 
the  local  shrines,  and  this  for  the  reason  that  the  rem- 
nant of  the  faithful  had  little  community  of  worship,  in 
s[)ite  of  the  sacred  feasts,  the  new  moons  and  sabbaths, 
and  other  feast-days  (IIos.  ii.  11).  That  some  were  found 
true  we  learn  from  the  wonderful  though  obscure  per- 
sonality of  Hosea.  While,  like  Amos,  he  draws  prophet- 
wise  a  picture  wholly  dark  of  the  times  and  the  jjcople, 
he  himself,  as  revealed  in  his  writings,  is  a  proof  of  the 
existence  of  a  small  but  intrepid  band  of  pure  and  loyal 
souls.  A  life  like  his,  whose  very  breath  was  love  and 
faith,  demanded  spiritual  fellowship  for  its  nurture  and 
its  daily  sustenance.  That  his  followers  and  su[)porters 
were  a  very  small  company  we  can  scarcely  doubt. 
But  they  were  necessarily  a  power  as  well  as  a  witness 
for  righteousness,  even  in  the  evil  times  of  Samaria's 
downfall.  Nor  did  they  altogether  perish  with  the  going 
down  of  the  kingdom.  It  was  not  in  the  nature  of  such 
a  society  to  dissolve  and  cease,  even  with  the  extinction 
of  the  nation.  They  were  not  a  forlorn  ho[)e,  losing  all 
for  which  they  fought  and  died.  They  were  rather  a 
hard-pressed  army  of  patriots  who  cut  their  way  through 
their  foes  to  join  their  allies  across  the  frontier,  whom 
they  reinforced  and  inspired  to  victory. 

§  995.  The  party  of  truth  and  righteousness  in  the 
kingdom  of  Judah  was  in  the  line  of  true  succession  to 
this  heroic,  prophetic  band.  It  was  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  moral  struggle  in  Jerusalem,  and  with  the  fall  of 
Samaria  in  view,  that  Isaiah  gathered  his  disciples  about 


il 


M 


112 


THE   FOUNTAIN   OF   MOllALITY 


B.KJK  IX 


1  i 


i 

u4  i 


liim.  Far  from  the  riot  and  ribaldry  of  voluptuaries,  and 
the  taunts  of  frivolous  sceptics,  and  the  intrigues  of  false 
and  seditious  politicians,  he  discoursed  to  them  of  the 
one  sure  foundation-stone  on  which  the  community  could' 
rest  its  hopes,  of  the  "overwhelming  scourge"  whit-h 
should  come  upon  those  who  had  made  lies  their  refuge 
and  hidden  themselves  under  falsehood,  of  the  hail-storm 
which  should  sweep  away  the  refuges  of  lies.  He  declared 
that  everything  must  hide  the  test  of  the  measuring-line 
of  justice  and  the  plumb-line  of  righteousness,  and  that  a 
divine  ordinance,  fixed  and  inviolable,  determines  the 
j;      'i<^atioii  of  the  rule  (Isa.  xxviii.  ;  cf.  viii.  6  ff.). 

4  <>'^'i;    With  this  revelation  we  are  brought  close  to  the 


see  runnnig 


fouL.iUii  )t  Old  Testament  morality.  We 
here  in  its  early  course  that  stream  of  ethical  thought 
and  .iiiti-'ient  :iMt  swells  and  broadens  to  all  eternity. 
Here  we  have  tlie  explanation  of  the  prophetic  life  and 
work,  the  key  to  the  history  of  prophecy  itself.  It 
is  not  Amos  and  Hosea  and  Isaiah  and  Micah  and 
Habakkuk  and  Jeremiah,  alone,  but  they  and  their 
teachers,  and  their  disciples,  tliat  raised  the  walls  of  the 
spiritual  temple  upon  its  unseen,  immovable  foundation- 
stone.  Their,  principles,  their  endurance,  their  successes 
and  defeats,  their  own  spiritual  progress,  give  unity  and 
consistency  as  well  as  ir  'tive  and  meaning  to  the  in- 
ner history  of  Israel.  Vve  think  of  the  profound  pro- 
phetic conceptions  in  the  Jehovistic  histcny  (§  931  ff.). 
We  do  not  forget  the  other  forces  that  wrought  for  the 
purification  of  the  state,  which  we  may  call  for  conven- 
ience the  reforming  priestly  party  and  the  reforming  court 
party,  and  of  these  we  must  take  serious  account  in  our 
study  of  moral  progress  under  the  monarchy.  But  much  of 
their  inspiration  they  owed  to  the  genuine  i)rophetic  influ- 
ence, and,  being  essentially  official  and  professional,  they 
were  more  easily  reformed  from  without  than  from  within. 
§  907.  To  trace  that  history  in  broadest  outline  up  and 
through  the  great  Reformation  is  now  a  comparatively 


Ch.  IV,  §  i)»9         EARLY   LITICRARY   PROPHETS 


11.] 


■ 


.simple  task.  Like  all  spiritual  processes  this,  the  most 
decisive  movement  of  the  ancient  world,  was  a  matter  of 
personal  experience.  Hence  the  outward  events  are  little 
known  and  of  little  direct  importance  until  the  conflict 
with  the  party  of  repression  and  moral  reaction  became 
public  and  national.  AVe  may  conveniently  make  four 
periods.  The  tirst  reaches  to  the  deliverance  of  Je- 
rusalem from  Sennacherib  ;  the  second  to  the  death  of 
lle/.ekiah  ;  the  third  to  the  accession  of  Josiah  ;  the 
fourth  through  the  Reformation  till  his  deatli. 

§  [)\)S.  In  the  iirst  period  we  observe  tlie  moral  arraign- 
ment of  the  civil  and  religious  evil-doers  brought  to  a 
climax  by  Isaiah  and  INIicah.  The  excitement  caused  by 
the  denunciations  of  Micah  is  attested  by  their  being 
called  to  mind  at  a  critical  period  more  than  a  century 
later  (Jer.  xxvi.  IT  ff.).  That  Isaiah  had  a  wider  out- 
look and  did  a  greater  work  is  partly  due  to  his  position 
in  the  capital,  and  to  his  skill  and  sagacity  in  keeping  in 
touch  with  the  leading  people  of  the  state,  and  at  length 
carrying  thetn  along  with  him  —  a  class  of  people  who 
would  have  been  alienated  by  the  indiscriminate  bitter- 
ness of  his  provincial  colleague.  The  most  obvious  out- 
ward mark  of  the  success  of  this  double  pr()])hetic  vocation 
was  the  partial  reform  instituted  by  Ilezekiah  (§  7t>5  f. ). 
A  more  permanent  result  was  the  increase  of  attachment 
to  Jerusalem  as  the  centre  of  national  hope  and  worshij), 
due  on  the  one  hand  to  Isaiah's  doctrine  of  the  inviola- 
bility of  Zion,  and  on  the  other  to  the  dread  of  the  deso- 
lation predicted  by  Micah.  Still  more  potential  morally 
was  Isaiah's  conception  of  a  community  of  Jehovah's 
worshippers,  which  was  partly  realized  in  his  own 
little  circle,  and  which  kept  itself  intact  in  the  darkness 
of  the  following  generation.  Of  this  community  the 
lineal  successor  is  the  church  of  God,  and  its  literary 
monument  is  the  Old  Testament. 

§  i)01).  With  all  the  strength  and  nobleness  of  the  ger- 
minal ideas  of  this  splendid  proplietic  era,  it  was  marked 


¥^ 


'M\ 


^m> 


1^ 


■  V 


i 

.   1  !'■ 

\- 

■    i^ 

i 

',i 

li 

i 

114 


PROrilETIC   LIMITATIONS 


Book  IX 


by  the  liiuitiitioiis  incident  to  its  stage  of  nionil  develoj)- 
ment.  It  is  the  gradual  emancipation  from  these  tram- 
mels that  distinguishes  the  comparative  spiritual  freedom 
attained  during  the  Exile.  First,  there  was  the  notion 
that  the  presence  of  Jehovah  and  the  benefits  of  worship 
were  confined  to  his  own  land  and  people  and  his  special 
seat.  This  conception  Avas  not  merely  a  necessity  in  the 
evolution  of  religious  thought,  but  it  was  also  a  saving 
practical  doctrine,  as  it  served  to  discourage  the  abound- 
ing nature-worship  and  superstitions  of  the  local  shrines. 
From  the  point  of  view  of  religious  truth,  however,  it 
manifestly  tended  to  narrowness  of  view,  intolerance,  self- 
sulhciency,  and  formality. 

§  lOOO.  Second,  the  view  still  prevailed  that  Jeliovah 
had  an  interest  in  the  people  as  a  whole  rather  than  in 
individuals.  Hence  the  responsibility  for  good  and  evil 
was  rather  national  than  personal.  It  is  true  that  the 
antithesis  between  the  righteous  and  the  wicked  was 
bound  ultimately  to  make  clear  the  principle  of  personal 
responsibility.  Indeed,  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  proph- 
ecy, that  sin  is  a  defiance  of  the  will  of  Jehovah  and 
goodness  a  compliance  with  his  will,  implied  freedom  of 
choice  on  the  part  of  the  individual.  IJut  these  Hebrew 
seers  were  not  logicians  or  psychologists.  They  con- 
cerned themselves  more  with  the  effect  and  issue  of  sin 
than  with  its  cause  and  origin,  and  it  was  a  work  of  time 
for  them  to  break  entirely  with  the  traditional  conception 
of  men  as  having  a  corporate  rather  than  a  personal  exist- 
ence. Hence  the  sinner  was  one  of  the  community,  a  class 
of  "  sinners "  ;  and  the  righteous  man  in  the  same  way 
was  one  of  the  community  of  the  "  rigliteous "  or  the 
"  pious."  So  persistent  was  the  inherited  tribalistic 
notion  (§  397)  that  a  single  life  resided  in  the  clan  and 
was  shared  by  its  members,  whose  patron  god  was  at  the 
same  time  its  ultimate  ancestor  or  life-giver.  The  power 
of  this  inwrought  idea  could  only  be  broken  when  a  sense 
of  moral  obligation  was  awakened  in  such  men  as  Jere- 


Cn.  IV,  §  100:3  DEFECTS  AM)  OUSTACLKS 


115 


of 
•e\v 

!011- 

siu 

1110 

ioii 
ist- 

•ay 
the 
itic 
iiul 
the 
,ver 
use 
ire- 


iiiiiih  1111(1  his  pupils.  Hut  at  this  stajj^e,  Avheii  the  [)arty 
of  Jeliovah  or  oi  righteousness  was  formed,  the  antithesis 
was  still  felt  to  be  between  two  eoiimiunities  and  not 
between  two  avsoeiations  of  individuals. 

§  loot.  A  third  limitation  was  the  laek  of  proportion 
and  eonsistency  iii  the  prophetie  estimate  of  virtues  or 
moral  (pialities.  What  affected  the  claims  of  Jehovah 
and  what  touched  the  life  of  the  community  was  of  cardi- 
nal iini)ortance.  Hence  to  those  prophets  the  great  trans- 
gression was  the  mixed  or  hypocritical  or  merely  formal 
worship  of  Jehfivah  ;  and  next  to  it  in  im[)iety  was  the 
op[tression  or  rol)bery  of  Jehovah's  wards,  the  j)oor  and 
humble.      Thus  is  to  be  explained  the  fact  that  the  most 

ich  (§  oUH)  and  the 


3ts  of 


)k 


th 


obnoxious 

priests.  What  we  miss  the  most  is  the  virtue  of  charit}"- 
and  tolerance  and  a  regard  for  man  as  man.  The  perse- 
cuting and  vindictive  spirit  and  the  threats  of  destruction 
were  not  clue,  however,  to  odhnn  tlieolotjicum^  but  to  the 
higher  motive  of  indignation  for  wrong  perpetrated 
against  Jehovah  and  his  suffering  people. 

§  1002.  The  preservation  of  Jerusalem  from  the  armies 
of  Sinacherib  (see  §  704  ff.)  introduced  a  second  period, 
which  was,  however,  very  brief,  as  it  lasted  only  till  the 
death  of  Ilezekiah.  It  was  marked  by  an  increased  regard 
for  the  prophetic  word  on  the  part  of  king  and  people, 
as  well  as  more  earnest  efforts  to  put  down  the  Canaanitish 
modes  of  worship  with  their  Babylonish  acicompaninicnts, 
which  had  been  fostered  by  Aliaz.  The  disturbed  con- 
dition of  the  country  (§  791)  must  have  greatly  obstructed 
the  moral  and  spiritual  progress  which  the  prophetic  party 
had  lioped  for.  It  is  impossible,  however,  to  get  detinite 
information  as  to  this  obscure  period  generally,  or  even  to 
infer  anything  from  subsequent  conditions. 

§  1003.  Nor  can  we  learn  anything  at  first  liand  of 
the  devoted  followers  of  Jehovah  during  the  third  period, 
the  cruel  times  of  King  Manasseh.  IJut  we  know  that 
this  was   a  time   of  intense   occupation  with   the   ideas 


M 


!    1 


'M;i 


1  :i'-i 


rp^ TT 


■^^r 


110 


KKACTION   UXDKU   MAXASSKH 


HdOK  IX 


and  aims  of  the  faithful  connmiiiity.  Only  so  can  wo 
oxphiin  tlie  strengtli  of  the  reforming  movement  under 
Josiah,  and,  wliat  is  more  sii,niilieant  still,  the  etliieal 
wisdom  and  depth  of  the  book  of  Deuteronomy.  Thus 
the  fourth  period  (that  of  Josiah's  r(),L>ime)  from  tiie 
point  of  view  of  moral  and  reli<i^ious  development,  really 
forms  one  great  epoch  along  with  the  third,  from  wlii(th 
it  differs  so  greatly  in  all  external  features.  In  the  later 
time  we  see  the  embodiment  of  the  ideas  of  the  earlier, 
the  execution  of  its  plans,  and  the  fulfilment  of  its  hopes. 

§  1004.  We  have  here  a  rare  oi)p(n'tunity  to  balance 
the  opposing  claims  of  the  two  communities  thus  engaged 
in  a  struggle  upim  whose  outcome  depended  the  fate  of 
the  world.  Nowhere  else  were  the  true  chai-acter  and 
tendency  of  the  forces  arrayed  against  prophetism  so 
clearly  displayed.  Just  as  signally  revealed  were  the 
aims  and  methods  of  the  party  of  progress  and  reform. 
Moreover,  the  issue  of  the  conllict  was  then  virtually 
determined,  or  at  least  conditioned,  since  it  was  at  this 
stage  that  a  movement  was  made  all  along  the  line 
through  w'hich  at  last  the  conquered  party  became  the 
conqueror.  Hence  the  very  situation  challenges  our 
inquiry  into  the  merits  of  the  contest.  We  ought  to  dis- 
cover what  was  saving  and  permanent  in  the  contentions 
and  principles  of  the  party  of  progress  and  reform. 

§  1005.  There  were  two  outstanding  features  in  the 
religious  policy  of  Manasseh  and  his  ministers.  First, 
he  made  a  systematic  effort  to  repeal  the  reforming 
measures  of  Hezekiah,  and  to  substitute  for  his  plain, 
unsymbolizing  worship  of  Jehovah  a  more  imposing  cult, 
which  should  enthrall  the  multitude  and  extinguish  reli- 
gious puritanism.  Second,  he  took  active  measures  against 
the  reforming  party,  which  culminated  in  persecution  to 
the  dctath.  The  situation  is  obviously  similar  to  that 
of  the  reign  of  Ahaz,  and  also  reminds  us  in  several 
respects  of  the  religious  strife  of  the  days  of  Ahab  and 
Elijah.     In  both  cases  the  adoration  of  strange  deities 


Cm.  IV,  §  1000       SIXCRUITY   OF  THE   DKVOTEKS 


117 


was  siiporaddecl  to  tliu  syinholifal  imaj^o-worsliip  of 
Jeliovah  and  to  tlio  old  C'anaanitisli  deinoiioloj^y.  As 
Ahal)  liail  been  led  by  the  prestige  of  the  Tyrian  alliance 
to  enter  n\um  the  service  of  the  Pho'idcian  Maal,  so  the 
glamour  of  the  victorious  gods  of  his  suzerain  impelled 
Manasseh  to  the  erection  of  shrines  for  the  celestial 
pantiieon  of  the  Assyrians  (§  SaO).  Under  l)oth  Ahab 
and  Manasseh  violence  was  resorted  to  for  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  pure  religion  of  Jeh(n'ah.  The  parallel  is 
made  more  striking  still  by  the  se(iuel  of  both  adminis- 
trations. When  Jehu  and  Josiah  came  to  power,  they 
alike  retaliated  in  kind  against  the  votaries  of  the  alien 
worship.  Still  more  striking  than  these  parallels  is  the 
contrast  shown  in  the  fact  that  while  the  forms  of  wor- 
shii)  promoted  by  Manasseh  showed  little  or  no  moral 
advance  over  those  favoured  by  Ahab,  the  type  of  reli- 
gion and  morals  exhibited  in  Deuteronomy  is  far  higher 
than  that  exemplitied  or  tolerat«'d  by  Elijah,  Elisha,  and 
Jehu. 

§  1006.  One  moral  distinction,  however,  must  be 
granted  to  the  religious  practices  of  the  time  of  Manas- 
seh. 1  mean  their  ijitense  earnestness  and  profound  sin- 
cerity. The  variety  of  cult  and  ritual  which  they 
exhibited,  far  from  being  an  indication  of  spiritual  fri- 
volity, was  rather  a  proof  that  every  possible  effort  was 
made  to  conciliate  the  native  deities  of  Canaan  and  the 
powerful  gods  of  Assyria  and  IJabylonia.  The  pathetic 
a])peals  for  light  on  the  dark  and  urgent  problems  of 
worship  and  sacrifice,  which  in  Mic.  vi.  6-8  are  put  into 
the  mouth  of  a  pious  contemporary,  show  that  even  a 
votary  of  Jehovah  could  be  tempted  to  offer  to  Him  that 
form  of  oblation  which  was  most  horril)le,  and  at  the  same 
time  most  fascinating,  in  the  heathen  rites  of  his  time  and 
people.  To  offer  up  one's  own  offspring  to  Molech  was 
the  acme  of  Canaanitish  self-devotion,  and  that  Israelites 
could  bring  themselves  to  it  shows  a  religious  desperation 
that  could  only  be  quelled  by  revolution. 


ill 


m 


:        1 


IP 


I: 

.,!■  (I 


" ' 


Its 


CONFLICT  DOCTIMNK   AND   DOfi.MA 


Book  IX 


§  ln07.  The  t'llii(;iil  clianiett'r  of  the  prophelic  ri'lioion 
was  jn'oinoted  by  the  antii<»'()nism  which  sprang  ui»  «>ii  this 
criKnal  (lUfstion  and  otlior  practi(ual  issues  in  the  religious 
lit'u  of  the  nation.  The  revolting  cruelty  of  the  (h'ily 
who  could  reijuiro  such  sacrifices  could  be  easily  learne( 
by  all  except  misguided  fanatics.  A  recoil  was  inevitable 
in  favour  of  Ilini  who  proclaimed  to  men  ballled  and  <lis- 
heartened  by  the  tyrannical  claims  of  rival  ceremonial 
systems :  "  What  doth  Jehovah  require  of  thee  but  to  do 
justice  and  to  love  mercy  and  to  walk  humbly  with  tliy 
God?"  True,  the  yoke  of  bondage  to  rites  and  cere- 
monies could  not  be  thrown  off,  and  indeed  it  soon  had  to 
be  tightened  in  the  interest  of  that  very  religion  to  which 
it  was  essentially  alien.  The  prophetic  note,  as  often 
afterwards,  sounded  far  above  the  practical  reason  of 
those  who  were  charged  with  the  otlices  of  religion. 

§  1008.  Uut  the  ruling  classes  and  the  majority'  of  the 
people,  both  in  and  outside  of  Jerusalem,  continued  tc 
follow  an  organized  system  of  heathen  and  half-heathch 
worship,  of  which  the  most  repulsive  of  practices  were 
a  customary  adjunct.  Hence  to  the  faithful  minority 
everything  in  the  popular  religion  which  detracted  from 
purity  of  thought  and  worship  became  more  repugnant, 
along  with  everything  in  practical  life  not  in  accord  with 
justice,  mercy,  and  submission  to  the  will  of  Jehovah. 
The  effect  on  belief  or  doctrine  was  necessarily  intense 
and  lasting.  Never  is  feeling  so  quickly  crystallized  into 
an  article  of  faith  as  in  times  of  religious  hardship  and 
conflict.  To  speak  of  dogma  in  the  nu)dern  metaphysi- 
cal sense  as  an  expression  of  the  Old  Testament  spirit 
would  be,  it  is  true,  an  inq)ertinence  almost  amounting 
to  blasphemy.  The  prophetic  word,  the  basis  of  all 
pre-Christian  teaching,  was  not  logical  or  philosophic 
statement,  but  a  revelation  of  concrete  facts  as  to  the 
nature  of  Jehovah  and  the  duty  of  men.  And  such  a 
communication  of  new  truth  had  not  only  an  outward 
form  but  also  an  inner  history  that  was  human  and  per- 


("11.  IV,  §  1(M)!> 


IIOLINKSS   OF   JKIIOVAM 


11!) 


sonal.  Tlu'  truth  itsolf,  as  far  as  known,  was  tlic  resultant 
of  nianifoM  forces,  social  and  individual,  working'  under 
the  impulse  and  direction  of  the  inscrutahh'  divine  sjiirit 
in  tlu;  souls  of  those  through  whom  the  message  came. 
All  teaching  was  at  once  spontaneous,  suhjective,  and  con- 
crete, hasetl  ill  its  suhstance  and  expression  upon  the 
experience  and  aspirations  of  men  who  had  the  gifts  of 
feeling,  seeing,  and  speaking.  Ilenci;  abstract  dogmatic 
statement  was  ineonceivahle  and  nnimaginahle,  ajiart  from 
the  fact  that  the  language  was  incapable  of  being  used 
for  the  pur[>ose.i  Yet  doctriiu's  and  principles  may  exist 
without  and  before  (htgmas  and  maxims,  and  faith  without 
and  before  either. ^  These  doctrines  and  prinei[)les  werc^ 
propounded  and  practised  in  those  days  of  storm  and 
stress  with  a  conviction  and  energy  of  which  philosophi/.- 
ing  and  critical  peoples  and  times  c'li  have  no  eoncejition. 
§  1001>.  Such  a  doctrine  was  the  h(^liness  of  .leh(»vah. 
His  sanctity  had  been  always  admitted.  IJut  it  was  a  new 
experience  to  [)reach  and  believe  that  He  waslioth  righteous 
in  action  and  essentially  pure  in  character.  'I'he  name 
(»f  Jehovah  came  to  include  ludinessin  this  twofohl  aspect ; 
and  as  the  word  (cu!")  implies,  it  was  his  "mark  "  —  that 
by  which  He  was  known.  The  foregoing  observations 
have  led  up  to  the  conclusicn  that  such  a  knowledge  of 
Jehovah  was,  in  part  at  least,  the  outcome  of  moral 
and  reliyfious  anta<'onisms.  The  effect  of  such  a  belief 
upon  the  character  of  the  believer  was  regenerative.  The 
conception  worked  by  reflex  inilueiu-e.      To  ada[it  the  old 

1  Even  such  familiar  New  Testament  expressions  as  "  (Jod  is  I.iuiit,"' 
"  God  is  Love,"  are  foreiun  to  Hebrew  concei)tion  and  lin^'uistic  usai;e. 
It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  that  the  most  abstract  of  tlie 
doctrines  of  Jesus  are  given  in  concrete  form  ;  lor  example  :  '■•  I  nm  the 
Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life." 

2  "  Faith  "  is  never  mentioned  in  the  Old  Testament,  thonsh  it  is  there 
throughout  in  the  form  of  "trust."  Such  is  the  faith  that  is  even 
ascribed  to  Abraham  (§  902),  who  had  neither  doctrines  nor  princi])h's. 
And  the  lloinan  centurion,  who  showed  greater  faitU  than  any  in  Israel 
(Luke  vii.  0),  had  principles  and  no  doctrines. 


t  m 


i  • 


II:-  i 


120 


SPIRITUAL  INDIVIDUALITY 


Book  IX 


11' 


saying:  Jis  a  man's  God  is,  so  must  he  himself  he.  But 
the  converse  also  holds  :  what  a  man  is,  that  his  God  must 
also  be.  God,  however,  is  an  ideal,  and  man,  essentially 
a  mere  animal,  but  with  head  aloft  and  gazing  into  heaven,^ 
normally  aspires  towards  that  ideal.  He  can  never  become 
as  great  and  good  as  his  visions.  Yet  it  is  only  by  strain- 
ing that  he  rises  at  all.  It  is  the  pure  in  heart  who  see 
God  (Matt.  V.  8)  and  "he  that  hath  this  hope  in  him 
purifieth  himself  even  as  He  is  pure"  (1  Jolin  iii.  3;  of. 
§994). 

S  1010.  Observe  also  how  this  clarified  notion  of  Jeho- 
vah's  character  tended  to  develop  moral  individuality 
(cf.  §  1000).  The  knowledge  of  his  holiness  could  come 
through  personal  experience  alone.  Whatever  else  was 
a  matter  of  traditional  belief  —  his  faithfulness  to  Israel, 
his  swiftness  to  i)uuish  his  own  and  his  people's  enemies, 
his  readiness  to  accept  a  sacrifice  —  this  vitalizing  concep- 
tion at  least  was  a  matter  of  conviction,  and  could  be 
certified  to  the  individual  soul  alone.  All  that  it  implied 
and  all  that  it  brought  with  it  served  to  confirm  and 
deepen  a  personal  relation  with  Jehovah. 

§  1011.  The  most  potent  conse(picnce  was  a  new  idea 
of  sinfulness  and  the  resvdts  of  forgiveness.  Upon  this 
I  need  not  here  enlarge.  What  is  of  im[)ortance,  hov> 
ever,  is  to  see  how  the  condition  of  the  feeble  and  strug- 
gling minority  loyal  to  Jehovah  favoured  these  spiritualiz- 
ing ideas.  Necessarily  its  members  were  excluded  from 
the  services  of  the  sanctuary  (cf.  §  009).  How  such  a 
jirivation  tended  to  refine  and  ennoble  the  believer  is 
shown  in  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  artistically  perfect 
of  sacred  poems  (Ps.  xlii.,  xliii).  Spirituality  always 
costs,'and  it  was  a  heavy  price  that  was  i)aid  for  the  bless- 
ing. But  the  gain  was  worth  '^lore  than  all  that  was 
suffered.     Precious  above  everything   else  was  the   dis- 


1  Accordino;  to  the  well-known  line  of  Ovid  :  "  Os  homini  sublime  dedit 
ctelunKiue  tueri,"  Jlet.  i,  85. 


Cfi.  IV,  §  10i;5        TIIK   rOMI'ROMISK   IN   RKFOKM 


121 


covery  anticipaU'd  by  earlier  prophets  (Amos  v.  21  If., 
IIos.  vi.  G,  Isa.  i.  11  ff.,  et  al.),  but  now  for  the  first  time 
verified  by  a  coiiiiiiunity  of  separate  worshippers,  that 
after  all  a  Kanctuary  and  its  j)roi)itiatory  sacrifices  were 
not  necessary  for  the  essential  exercises  of  relit^ion  or  for 
pardon  and  peace  with  (iod.  None  the  less  did  they 
yearn  for  the  renewal  of  those  outward  conununications 
with  Jehovah  which  Old  Testament  saints  always  regarded 
as  channels  of  grace  and  help.  And  perhaps  they  them- 
selves scarcely  realized  that  greater  blessings  came  through 
the  discipline  r»f  loss  and  separation  than  through  the 
enjoyment  of  the  nid>roken  i)rivileges  of  the  sanctuary. 

§  1012.  Thus  tiie  national  and  otTlicial  degeneracy  of 
the  period  of  Maiiasseh  reacted  according  to  sure  moral 
laws  upon  the  chosen  spirits  from  whom  came  the  words 
and  the  deeds  that  were  to  save  Israel  and  the  world. 
Practically  the  effect  was  seen  most  clearly  in  the  period  of 
Josiah  and  Deuteronomy.  Hut  the  reaction  of  unfettered 
freedom  did  somelhing  more  and  something  less  than 
fulfil  the  moral  promise  of  the  years  of  repression  and 
diseii)line.  It  invaded  the  spiritual  sphere  proper  to 
prophetic  th(»uglit  and  activity,  and  it  fell  below  the  j)ro- 
plictic  ideal  in  laying  excessive  emphasis  upon  law  and 
ritual.  The  compromise  was,  however,  inevitable.  The 
drafting  of  the  reforming  principles  and  methods  came 
into  the  hands  of  proftj.ssionals,  and  the  carrying  out 
of  the  reforms  into  the  hands  of  })oliticians.  On  the 
whole  they  did  better  for  their  time  than  tlie  pro[»lu'ts 
alone  would  have  done  in  their  place,  for  practical  men 
*' are  wiser  for  tlieir  own  generation"  than  idealists,  and 
are  saved  Ity  a  marvellous  instinct  from  a[)prehending 
more  of  new  and  saving  ideas  than  they  themselves  are 
able  or  willing  to  put  inttt  |)ractice. 

§  101:5.  It  will  b<-  remendx'red  that  the  reform  of  Josiah 
was  ('onduct(Ml  under  the  auspices  of  the  i)riests.  Their 
interest  in  the  matter  re(|uires  that  a  few  words  shonld 
be  said  of  the  [»art  played  by  them  in  the  moral  and  leli- 


1  ' 


(    it! 


o- 


:Ll| 


m 


Bsn 


122 


rRE-rROrilETIC   rRIESTIlOOl) 


Book  IX 


gioiis  ediicatioii  of  Lsniel,^  especially  that  it  may  be  seen 
whether  or  not  it  was  purely  formal.  This  vital  point 
may  be  decided  by  observing  the  tendency  of  their  official 
work  to  affect  the  character  of  their  clients. 

§  1014.  To  begin  with,  the  primitive  man  felt  that  lie 
was  com2)letely  under  the  power  of  his  God  or  gods.  It 
was  tliis  power  that  gave  liim  thriving  cattle  or  fertile 
fields  or  a  prosperous  family,  or,  peradventure,  scattered 
his  flocks,  blighted  his  grain,  or  sickened  or  slew  his  chil- 
dren. IJut  such  curses  or  blessings  might  bo  arbitrary 
and  inevitable.  It  was  a  decisive  advance  when  a  causal 
and  necessary  connection  between  them  and  the  character 
of  the  individual  was  established  ;  in  other  words,  when 
some  sense  of  moral  responsibility  was  created  in  his 
mind.  Here  the  instituticm  of  i)ropitiatory  sacrifice 
played  a  preliminary  and  auxiliary  but  most  important 
part.  The  matter  of  first  consequence  always  was  that 
the  deity  should  be  conciliated.  Even  when  national 
issues  were  hanging  in  the  balance,  he  might  not  always 
intervene,  for  he  might  be  indifferent  or  ajigered  toward 
the  people.  The  business  of  the  priests  was  to  secure 
his  continual  interest  and  favour.  At  flrst  they  inter- 
ceded or  sacrificed  for  the  community,  then  for  its  repre- 
sentative, above  all  the  chief  or  king,  then  for  individuals 
in  proportion  to  their  j)romine]ice  or  the  value  of  the 
offerings  presented  at  the  shrine.  Individuals  also  might 
present  their  supplications  or  their  piacula,  the  fruits  of 
the  field  or  the  firstlings  of  the  flock.  IJut  this  they  did 
in  connection  with  sacred  places  and,  if  possible,  through 
sacred  persons. 

§  1015.  In  the  Hebrew  community,  even  before  the 
rise  of  prophecy,  the  con<litions  were  peculiarly  favour- 
able to  the  development  of  an  individualistic  or  spiritual 
idea  of  religion  in  connection  Avith  ceremonial  worship. 
First,  there  was  the  prime  advantage  that  in  Israel  after 


1  Supplementing  what  l.'4,s  been  noted  of  their  judicial  work  in  §  488  ff. 


Cm.  IV,  §  1016       rUIESTS   AS  JUDGKS   AM)   OUACLKS 


l-j:l 


the  time  of  Moses  there  was  very  sehh)in  a  inultiplieity  of 
coordinate  deities  to  distraet  the  worshipper  or  to  weaken 
the  relij^ious  sentiment.  What  was  most  seductive  was 
the  degradation  of  tlie  worship  of  Jehovah  by  a  sensuous 
symbolism,  and  the  survival  or  revival  of  ancient  popuhir 
superstitions.  The  purification  of  the  worship  of  Jehovah 
Avas,  therefore,  of  itself  a  distinct  gain  for  the  religious 
consciousness  of  the  nation.  Secondly,  there  was  the  fact 
that  the  priests,  the  active  and  moving  religious  force  t)f 
the  community,  the  mediators  between  Jehovah  and  the 
people,  were  also  counsellors  and  mentors  in  the  place  of 
God  (Kx.  xxii.  7  f. ;  Deut.  xxxiii.  9  f.)  as  givers  of 
oracles  and  decisions  in  matters  of  dispute.  They  thus 
associated  the  life  and  conduct  of  their  suppliants  with 
their  religious  services  (§  488  f.).  So  essential  was 
"direction"  or  "judgment"  to  the  priesthood  that  the 
very  last  of  the  Old  Testament  prophets,  while  indulging 
in  a  pathetic  reminiscence  of  the  lost  ideal,  gives  an  ex- 
haustive definition  of  this  most  spiritual  of  the  priestly 
functions  as  follows  :  "  Trustworthy  direction  was  in  his 
mouth,  and  unrighteousness  was  not  found  in  his  lips  :  in 
innocence  and  in  uprightness  he  walked  with  me,  and 
many  did  he  turn  away  from  ini([uity.  For  the  lips  of  a 
priest  should  guard  right  knowledge,  and  men  should  seek 
direction  at  his  mouth,  for  a  messenger  of  Jehovah  of 
Hosts  is  he"  (Mai.  ii.  0  f.). 

§  101(1.  But  in  the  very  nature  of  things  such  ollices 
could  not  be  a  permanent  attribute  of  the  priestiiood. 
They  could  in  truth  oul}'  be  duly  fulfilled  in  an  element- 
ary stage  of  society.  Partly  on  account  of  their  abuse, 
(cf.  §  400)  and  partly  on  account  of  the  gradual  and  per- 
manent restriction  of  the  priests  to  intercessory  and  sac- 
rificial work,  thei'-  judicial  and  oracular  functions  fell  into 
abeyance  and  were  taken  over  by  the  prophets,  or  in  more 
businesslike  fashion  by  the  local  elders  (§  48G).  It  is 
impossible  to  say  liow  far  tlie  public  or  the  individual  con- 
science was  affected  by  this  ministry  of  the  priests.     Prob- 


ti'4 


^•1 


ni 


-TfHl 


w 


124 


PlilKSTLY   MORAL  INFLUENCE 


Book  IX 


ably  tlieir  influenco  for  good  was  mainly  conservative, 
preventing  a  relapse  of  the  unstable  society  of  the  times 
into  social  anarchy  and  strife,  depredations  and  reprisals. 
Yet  we  may  be  sure  that  their  work  was  of  positive  bene- 
fit in  two  directions.  When  honest  and  faithful,  they 
encouraged  a  spirit  of  justice  and  toleration  among  their 
clients.  What  was  perhaps  of  more  potential  value,  they, 
in  their  own  persons,  familiarized  the  people  with  the 
fundamental  principle  that  their  common  life  was  reli- 
gious throughout,  and  consisted  of  something  more  than 
religious  service  ;  that  their  ordinary  duties  had  a  reli- 
gious sanction  ;  that  their  obligations  rested  upon  the 
behest  of  a  supernatural  power,  who  was  also  the  head  of 
the  whole  comnuuiity.  The  consciousness  or  subconscious- 
ness of  this  relation  to  supernatural  powers  gave  of  itself 
no  ethical  quality  to  an  action,  but  it  furnished  a  basis 
upon  which  the  proj)liets  raised  the  structure  of  spiritual 
morality,  thus  taking  up  the  higher  work  which  an  ollicial 
priesthood  was  incompetent  either  to  apprehend  or  to 
achieve. 

§  1017.  Thus  neither  the  work  nor  the  word  of  the 
priests,  as  far  as  it  was  official  and  professional,  could  aid 
directly  in  the  moral  and  spiritual  elevation  of  the  indi- 
vidual, since  it  did  not  operate  in  the  realm  of  conscience. 
But  tlieir  indirect  influence  for  good  upon  individual  life 
was  immeasurable.  Not  onl>',  as  we  have  seen,  did  they 
keep  Jehovah  before  the  mind  of  Israel  in  the  twilight  of 
its  reason  and  faith,  but  the  larger  ministry  into  which 
the)' grew  with  the  increasing  complexity  of  both  religious 
and  civil  life  made  provision  for  ever  enlarging  and  real 
needs  of  worship  and  ritual.  Ceremonial  religion  could 
not,  it  is  true,  renew  the  individual  heart  and  life  ;  its 
abuse  could  and  did  induce  in  the  worslii})j)ers  arrogance, 
hypocrisy,  and  the  exclusion  of  (lod  himself  by  nu'ans 
of  the  very  symbols  of  his  preseiu^e ;  the  unfaithful- 
ness, venality,  and  sensuality  of  many  of  its  ministers 
drew  upon  them  bitter  and  persistent  prophetic  dentmcia- 


,■!! 


Cii.  IV,  §  1018      UNKNOWN   WORKERS   AND   WRITERS  125 


tioiis^  i^e.g.  Am.  ii.  8  ;  Hos.  v.  1  ff .  ;  Mic.  iii.  11).  Yet 
this  very  priestly  guild,  when  in  harmony  with  the  true 
prophets,  wrouglit  salvation  in  Israel  in  critical  times, 
instigated  all  the  reforms  in  worship,  collected  and 
guarded  both  the  civil  and  ceremonial  law  of  the  nation, 
preserved  the  continuity  of  religious  thought  and  knowl- 
edge in  the  long  dark  ages  of  Israel's  history,  and  edited 
large  and  indispensable  sections  of  the  Old  Testament. 

§  1018.  When  we  see  how  little  the  literary  prophets 
of  the  time  had  to  do  with  the  so-called  "legislation"  as 
given  in  Deuteronomy,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  keep  in 
mind  those  who  were  in  most  sympathy  with  its  special 
enactments,  we  gain  an  insight  into  the  conditions  of 
moral  and  religious  progress  tliat  is  quite  invaluable. 
We  are  apt  to  sujjpose  that  it  was  the  great  prophets  and 
well-known  guides  of  the  people  who  had  most  to  do  with 
epoch-making  moral  and  religious  movements  that  have 
left  their  mark  in  the  literature  of  the  Old  Testament. 
The  present  instance  shows  plainly  that  this  was  not  nec- 
essarily the  case.  It  indicates  besides  that  a  great  deal 
of  the  work  which  lay  behind  the  moral,  ceremonial,  and 
civil  law  of  the  Hebrews  was  done  by  obscure  priests  and 
by  disciples  of  the  prophetic  school  (§  \)'A')  in  periods  of 
history  which  we  usually  regard  as  religiously  dead  and 
unproductive.  The  growth  of  Deuteronomy,  not  merely 
as  a  literary,  but  as  a  moral  and  religious  achievement, 
is  proof  of  this.  We  know  who  the  men  were  that  were 
concerned  in  bringing  this  book  to  ligiit  and  in  securing 
its  practical  validity.  We  have  no  record  of  the  epoch- 
making  men  who  were  concerned  in  its  production. 

1  In  degenerate  times  false  prophets  kairued  tlieniselves  with  recreant 
priests,  a  combination  wliii'li  virtually  inoliulcd  tlu;  ()rofessionals  of  both 
orders.  It  was  then  that  tlie  true  propliets  were  most  outsijokeii  against 
both.  The  dark  picture  is  completed  by  Jer.  v.  31,  vi.  13,  viii.  10, 
xxiii.  11,  34  ;  Zeph.  iii.  4 ;  Ezek.  xxii.  20.     Cf.  §  1000. 


11  ,J 


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!    •' 


CHAPTER  V 


THE   REFORMATION   IN   EFFECT 


§  1019.  Of  the  details  of  the  work  of  reformation  we 
are  not  informed  beyond  the  overtnrning'  of  the  abuses  in 
worship  already  noted  (§  So-l  ff.).  There  can  be  little 
doubt  that  uniformity  of  religious  service  was  secured 
during  the  rest  of  the  life  of  Josiali,  that  the  high-places 
were  dismantled,  that  the  idols  disappeared  from  view, 
and  that  resort  to  the  central  sanctuar}^  at  the  stated 
feasts  was  general  and  regular.  Jerusalem  itself  was 
thoroughly  cleared  of  ceremonial  and  moral  impurities, 
and  the  ritual  worship  of  Jehovah  gained  a  dignity 
and  prestige  which  it  never  wholly  lost.  Amoiig  the 
various  adjustments  of  the  new  system  special  dilliculty 
must  have  been  feH,  in  settling  the  cases  of  the  deposed 
guardians  of  the  local  shrines.  The  provision  whereby 
the  priests  were  brought  to  Jerusalem  and  maintained 
there  (2  K.  xxiii.  8  f.)  must  have  been,  if  persistently 
carried  out,  a  heavy  burden  on  the  sacred  revenues,  as 
well  as  socially  injurious.  Ecpial  dilliculty  must  also 
have  attended  the  organization  and  settlement  of  the 
whole  body  of  the  Levites  at  Jerusalem  (I)eut.  xviii. 
1  ff.).  Practical  obstacles  must  indeed  have  rendered 
this  special  legislation  to  a  great  degree  ineffective. 

§  1020.  The  new  programme  had  a  fair  trial.  It  was 
maintained  for  twelve  years,  and  during  that  time  it  liad 
behind  it  the  official  force  of  the  kingdom,  with  the  king's 
authority  and  active  support.     A  fair  measure  of  success 

126 


Cii.  V,  §  1021 


DIFFIL'ULTIKS   OF   UEFOHM 


attended  it  as  far  as  it  interfered  with  established  usages 
Avhich  were  the  veliicle  and  snpport  of  the  popuhir  reli- 
gion, lint  the  enforcement  of  the  ethical  provisions  of 
the  "book  of  direction  "  was  a  task  beyond  legislation  and 
its  executive  processes.  The  evils  were  inveterate  and 
virulent  ;  native  to  the  soil  (§  41)'));  the  long  habit  of  the 
nation  ;  bound  up  with  the  practice  of  the  great  world, 
Hebrew  and  (ientile,  outside  the  coterie  of  prophets  and 
priests  in  Jerusalem,  whose  zeal  must  have  been  regarded 
by  many  as  an  outburst  of  intolerance,  and  by  many  more 
as  a  tumult  of  Utopian  folly.  It  was  easier  to  break  down 
an  altar  than  to  set  free  a  family  enslaved  for  a  petty  debt  ; 
to  dismiss  an  idolatrous  priest  than  to  bring  down  from 
his  place  of  power  and  pride  a  grandee  grown  rich  by 
oppression  and  usury,  or  a  judge  in  league  with  him 
through  bribery  and  perjury  (Mic.  vii.  2  f.). 

§  1021.  There  were  insuperable  dilliculties  in  the  very 
nature  of  the  case.  First,  there  was  an  inner  contradiction 
between  the  principles  of  the  reform  and  its  methods.  Its 
moral  groundwork,  and  its  pleas  for  repentance,  triust, 
and  submission  of  the  heart  and  life,  were  inconsistent 
with  the  notion  of  physical  compulsion.  The  due  effect 
of  the  apix'als  to  the  spiritual  nature  of  the  people  was  to 
create  an  ideal  of  religious  service  which  must  have  been 
impaired  by  the  drastic  measures  adopted  to  secure  an 
external  reformation.  Thus  was  presented,  as  in  the  book 
of  Deuteronomy  itself,  so  in  the  system  of  conforndty 
and  uniformity  which  it  prescribed,  that  practical  antithe- 
sis between  prophetic  ideals  and  administrative  necessi- 
ties (cf.  §  1012),  and  the  far  more  profound  antithesis 
between  zeal  for  truth  and  zeal  for  a  system,  which  have 
i)oth  sustained  and  marred  the  historic  churches  of  Juda- 
ism and  Christendom.  Accordingly,  while  the  ideal  of 
Deuteronomy  was  to  be  at  some  time  realized  in  theworhl, 
it  was  impossible  to  accomplish  by  force  what  could  be 
effected  only  by  moral  influence  and  by  the  slow  induce- 
ments of  Providence  within  the  souls  of  men. 


''h 


I  ;! 


It.l 


^m 


m 


128 


THE  ANTITIIESKS   OF  HEFOKM 


Book  IX 


§  1022.  Again,  a  fundaiuental  and  necessary  defect  of 
the  movement  lay  in  the  fact  that  while  Deuteronomy 
and  its  crusade  appeahid  to  Israel  as  a  whole  and  as  a  cor- 
porate entity,  its  arguments  and  exhortations  could  prop- 
erly affect  only  the  individual  heart  and  life.  And  yet, 
on  the  other  hand,  Deuteronomy  had  to  hold  fast  to  the 
idea  of  the  solidarity  of  the  connnunity,  not  merely  be- 
cause it  was  a  traditional  conception,  but  because  neai'l}^ 
Jill  the  pleas  for  a  more  spiritual  religion  and  a  nobler 
mode  of  life  were  based  u[)on  it.  It  was  upon  the  ground 
of  the  common  relation  to  Jehovah  that  the  unity  of  the 
natifm  was  felt  and  recognized,  and  it  was  upon  the  same 
ground  that  a  common  worship  and  loyal  obedience  were 
claimed  for  llim,  and  that  help  for  the  poor  and  unfortu- 
nate, and  redress  of  all  the  wrongs  within  the  comnmnity, 
were  made  a  matter  not  merely  of  sentiment  but  of  practi- 
cal legislation.  Thus  this  dominant  conception  was  at 
once  the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  the  reforming 
cause. 

§  1023.  IJut  it  is  easy  to  make  a  radical  mistake  in 
summing  up  the  effect  of  the  Reformation  and  of  the 
manual  of  reform  which  an  eminent  critic  has  adjudged  to 
be  ''perhaps  the  most  influential  and  far-reaching  book 
that  was  ever  written."^  We  must  not  suppose  that  the 
whole  matter  is  settled  by  saying  that  on  the  one  side 
there  were  mere  external  regulations  that  rested  on  force, 
and  on  the  other  a  proclamation  of  principles  that  ap- 
pealed to  the  heart  and  conscience.  It  is  not  to  be 
assumed  that  ritual  was  wholly  an  outward  thing.  We 
must,  in  the  iirst  place,  distinguish  according  to  their 
nature  and  history  between  the  ethical  and  the  ritual  in 
revelation  and  religious  usage.  Each  of  them  must  be 
regarded  as  a  product  of  the  h'gher  religious  life  of  Israel. 
They  were  not  antagonistic,  though  they  were  antithetic 
(§  1021).     They  ran  from  the  beginning  along  parallel 

1  Coruill,  Der  israelitische  Prophetismus  (2d  ed.  189G),  p.  91. 


Cn.  V,  §  1024      THE  ETHICAL   AND  THE   RITUAL 


129 


lines.  The  one  was  mainly  impelled  by  prophetic  ins{)ira- 
tion  and  direction ;  the  other  sprang  from  the  necessities 
and  proprieties  of  formal  worship.  The  one  was  the  free 
and  untrammelled  outcome  of  reflectiim  and  discourse  ; 
the  other  was  the  result  of  official  deliberation  and  agree- 
ment, arri-ved  at  from  time  to  time  and  finally  embt)died 
in  rule  and  statute.  Both  are  rooted  in  the  same  great 
dual  motive,  to  secure  the  holiness  of  Jehovah's  people 
and  the  purity  of  his  worship  ;  a  motive  working  in  long 
lines  of  historic  development,  beginning  with  the  first  pre- 
scriptions of  Moses  and  ending  perhaps  in  eternity.  liut, 
looking  at  the  inherent  force  and  potency  of  the  two  ele- 
ments of  DeutercMiomy,  we  see  that  the  ethical  is  both 
before  and  after  the  formal,  the  restrictive,  and  the  puni- 
tive, because  it  is  inward  "in  the  heart"  (l)eut.  xxx.  14), 
because  it  is  spontaneous  and  unforced,  because  it  is 
self-attesting  and  self- justifying.  The  one  is  like  the 
cosmic  influences,  silent,  sure,  and  constant,  that  "pre- 
serve the  stars  from  wrong  "  and  that  give  us  the  sun- 
shine and  the  seasons.  The  other  is  like  the  terrestrial 
forces,  irregular  and  uncertain,  that  bring  us  clouds  and 
rain,  lightning  and  tempest.  The  one,  like  the  air  of 
heaven,  is  the  very  breath  and  life  of  soul  and  spirit. 
The  other,  like  the  wind  that  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  is 
often  boisterous  and  harsh  ;  yet  it  keeps  the  moral  atmos- 
phere pure  and  sweet,  and  bears  the  voyager  safe  over 
life's  treacherous  sea. 

§  1024.  The  ethical  and  spiritual  ideas  of  Deuteronomy 
have  given  dignity  and  inunortality  to  the  book  because 
they  inspired  and  vitalized  its  rules  and  ordinances 
and  because  in  themselves  they  liave  been  among  the 
chief  of  all  historic  forces  and  agencies.  Notice  their 
adaptation  to  the  most  urgent  needs  of  the  Hebrew  com- 
munity of  the  time.  We  are  impressed  by  the  patriotism 
of  the  book,  as  being  of  the  deepest  and  truest  sort.  To 
the  people  of  Israel,  denationalized  as  they  were  by  for- 
eign customs  as  well  as  by  long  servitude  to  foreign  po- 


ill 


I  :<? 


I  I 


I 


t  !i 


L  m 


i  I 


^w 


130 


PATRIOTISM   AND   INDIVIDl'ALISM 


Book  IX 


If!  i^ 


tentates,  the  doctrine  was  asserted  and  reiterated,  that 
the  hind  was  Jehovah's,  and  that  they  were  the  tenants 
of  it  as  Jehovah's  people.  "  The  Land  "  or  "  the  rest  and 
tlie  inheritance  "  (xii.  0)  or  "  thy  gates  "  {i.  e.  thy  city, 
xvi.  5)  "which  Jeliovah  thy  (lod  giveth  thee,"  is  a  stand- 
ing phrase  (cf.  §  o80  f.).  This  notion  has  ever  since 
inspired  the  most  fervent  and  steadfast  patriotism  known 
to  the  worhl,  from  ancient  Palestine  to  modern  South 
Africa.  Jehovah's  service  hy  Jehovah's  people  in  Jeho- 
vah's land  mav  be  taken  as  the  theme  of  Deuterononiy. 
See  how  even  the  formal  prescriptions  of  the  religious  life 
are  permeated  by  the  spirit  of  this  threefold  conception  : 
"  And  now,  behold,  I  have  brought  the  first  of  the  fruits 
of  the  grountl,  which  Thou,  Jehovah,  hast  given  me  I  " 
(xxvi.  10).  Such  Deuteronomic  sentiments  must  needs 
spiritualize  and  purify  from  pride  and  selfishness  the  feel- 
ings cherished  by  men  everywhere  for  home  and  family 
and  country. 

§  1025.  Even  the  conception  of  the  corporate  unity  of 
Jehovah's  people,  which  has  been  noticed  as  a  necessary 
defect  of  the  book  in  its  practical  enforcement  (§  1022), 
became  in  the  hands  of  the  writer  an  actual  preparation 
for  the  later  and  truer  principle  of  the  relatitm  of  the  in- 
dividual to  God.  For  the  obedience  and  worship  and 
love  of  the  heart,  which  were  demanded  u[)on  the  ground 
of  the  common  union  with  Jeliovah,  were  bound  at  length 
to  manifest  themselves  as  a  jjcrsonal  experience  and  privi- 
lege, known  besides  to  God  himself  alone.  But  we 
must  leave  the  subject  here,  content  to  have  merely 
pointed  out  some  of  the  ethical  treasures  that  lie  on  the 
surface  of  the  book,  or  at  a  little  depth  below  the  surface. 

§  1026.  And  yet  in  the  book  as  it  stands  the  purely 
spiritual  and  ethical  elements  are  secondary,  introduced 
for  the  purpose  of  upholding  and  commending  a  thorough 
and  rigorous  system  of  ritual  observance  (§  860  if.). 
They  are  the  pillars  of  a  great  structure,  strong  and 
stately,  but  still  iti  this  building  only  pillars.     The  con- 


Cu.  V,  §  1020      OUTLINE   OF   TIIK    RITUAL   SYSTKM 


131 


si'([Ut'iK'es  of  the  ritiml  system  itself  nuiy  be  sumniariziMl 
iis  follows:*  (1)  The  t>lcl  reli^^ioii  of  Jsniel  foiiiul  (lod 
everywhere  in  the  Holy  Liiiul,  revealing'  his  power  l)y 
various  tokens  ;  henee  the  nuiltiplieation  of  shrines  and 
images.  The  reformers,  by  abolishing'  images  and  sanc- 
tuaries, left  the  common  man  outside  of  Jerusalem,  the 
favoured  shrine,  without  the  manifest  signs  of  (mkI's 
presence,  and  therefore  in  a  sense  without  God,  since  they 
had  not  arrived  at  the  conception  of  the  divine  omnipres- 
ence. (2)  Religion  in  the  old  time  had  boen  a  matter  of 
course  and  a  constant  element  of  everyday  life.  Every 
meal  was  in  fact  a  sacrifice.  With  the  restriction  of  the 
Israelite  to  the  three  great  feasts  and  to  worship  at  Jerusa- 
lem alone,  he  was  led  to  think  of  and  to  pass  through  life  in 
a  great  measure  without  religion,  which  had  shrivelled  up 
to  the  observances  of  these  three  festal  seasons.  (f>)  In 
the  olden  time  every  man  was  a  priest  in  his  own  house, 
and  sacrifices  were  offered  by  many  besides  the  priissts. 
Now,  with  the  exclusive  concentration  of  the  priesthood 
in  the  tribe  of  Levi,  the  distinction  between  clergy  and 
laity  was  created.  At  the  same  time  the  priestly  func- 
tion was  modified.  The  priests,  instead  of  being  counsel- 
lors tand  givers  of  oracles  at  the  local  sanctuaries,  became 
ex[)ounders  of  the  written  law.  (4)  Deuteronomy  also 
created  the  distinction  between  church  and  state.  For- 
merly the  king  and  the  government  cared  for  and  admin- 
istered the  affairs  of  religion.  Now  all  this  was  in  the 
hands  of  a  caste  or  order  distinct  from  nobles  and  people 
alike.  Thus  it  was  made  possible  for  Israel,  through 
this  churchly  system,  to  survive  the  destruction  of  the 
state.  (5)  Now  for  the  first  time  religion  was  grounded 
upon  a  book,  and  became  itself  a  systt'ui  of  statutes  or  a 
"law."  And  thus  the  doctrine  of  a  Holy  Scripture  and 
its  insi)iration  is  to  be  traced  finally  to  Deuteronomy. 

1  In  what  follows  of  this  parajiraph  I  have  done  little  more  than 
abridge  the  observations  of  Cornill  in  p.  84  ff.  of  his  admirable  little 
buok,  Der  israelitische  Proiihetismus  (2d  ed.  189(3). 


1=1   I 

i!l'    ji      III! 


^'4 


'■if 
1  If  I 


m 


lit, 


CHAPTER   VI 


THE    KCJVI'TIAXS    IN    TALESTINE 


§  1027.  Outward  oouforniity  to  prescrii)ti<)n  was  at 
best  of  little  si^nilicance  for  the  ultimate  fate  of  the  peo- 
ple. Tlie  chances  of  a  single  life  were  all  that  lay  between 
it  and  a  revulsion  whicli  might  more  than  undo  all  that 
had  been  effected  at  so  great  a  cost,  lint  thirteen  years 
of  the  new  religious  regime  had  passed  when  that  life 
came  to  an  end,  and  in  a  way  which  seemed  to  belie  the 
promise  of  a  hap[)y  reign.  During  the  j'ears  of  Josiah's 
maturity  his  people  must  have  increased  in  nund)ers, 
wealth,  and  outward  strength.  Assyria  liaving  relaxed 
its  hold  upon  the  district  of  Samaria,  a  portion  of  the 
country  to  the  north  of  the  old  boundary  of  Judah  must 
have  been  annexed,  if  it  were  only  to  secure  protection 
against  bands  of  marauders  from  the  other  provinces  of 
Assyria  now  left  without  a  settled  government  (cf.  §  840). 
Josiah  had  excellent  business  men  about  him  to  administer 
the  revenues  of  his  kingdom.  lie  was  a  strong  ruler,  and 
his  virtual  independence  increased  liis  interest  in  the 
development  of  his  country.  He  had  a  loyal  array  w^  ' 
was  ready  to  follow  him  even  in  hazardous  cifcr 
Hence  when  it  was  thought  necessary  to  at  u 

invader,  the  superiority  of  the  enemy  was  sullic     .t 

to  prevent  his  taking  the  field  against  him. 

§  1028.  The  conflict  with  this  trespasser  upon  tli 
of  Palestine  brings  the  Hebrew  people  again  upon  the 
arena  of  a  world-moving  struggle.  It  was  the  singular 
distinction  of  this  little  connuunity  to  be  perpetually  in- 


1 


Cm.  VI,  §  10.10 


THE    DVXASTV   OF   SAIS 


i;'.3 


oil 

he 
lar 
in- 


volvutl  ill  moveiuents  that  tunit'd  the  cliannt'ls  of  hiiinaii 
liistory.     When  it  was  ut  peace,  it  was  creating  and  work- 


iii<r  <) 


ut  th 


10  conditions  oi    iiior 


f 


aiK 


I    rd 


i<,'ious  profi^reHs 


that  were  to  be  the  example  and    tlie  inspiration  of   all 


coniin^j  time.  When  it  was  at  war,  it  took  a  part  far 
l)c'y(»nd  its  relative  politic^al  importance  in  those  inter- 
national contentions  which  decided  the  fate  of  the  most 
powerful  of  ancient  em[)ires.  Now,  after  many  years  of 
profound  internal  rejiose,  it  dashed,  all  of  a  sudden,  into  a 
conflict  on  which  depended  the  fortunes  of  the  two  great 
civilizations  of  Oriental  anticpiity. 

§  lOiil).  Of  the  reigns  of  Esarhaddon  and  Asshurbani- 
l)al,  not  the  least  important  events  were  the  Assyrian  con- 
quest of  Kgypt  under  the  former  king,  and  its  recoiujiiest 
and  final  abandonment  by  the  latter  (§  7")G,  704  ff.). 
Among  other  interesting  matters  was  the  great  enlarge- 
ment of  international  relations  (§  708,  775).  The  libera- 
tion of  Egypt  from  the  Assyrian  yoke  was  due  in  large 
measure  to  mercenary  troojjs  of  lonians  and  Carians  sent 
to  the  support  of  Psammetichus  I  by  Gyges,  king  of  Lydia. 
This  dependence  of  the  ruling  dynasty  upon  the  most 
available  foreign  support  continued  to  be  a  feature  of 
Egyi)tian  history.  The  Ethiopian  dynasty  had  been 
crushed  by  Assyria.  It  had  been  self-reliant,  patriotic, 
and  unbending.  Necho  1,  the  prince  of  8ais  in  the 
Delta,  was  a  favourite  of  the  Assyrians  (§  7(J0)  ;  and  to 
them  he  owed  not  only  pardon  and  reinstatement  after 
rebellion,  but  support  during  the  rest  of  his  life.  His 
son  Psammetichus  was  fortunate  in  securing  the  aid  of 
foreigners,  who  demanded  only  their  pay  and  rations,  in 
driving  out  another  set  of  foreigners,  who  strove  for 
dominion,  homage  to  their  gods,  and  unfailing  tribute. 

§  1030.  This  dynasty  of  8ais  grew  in  power  and  in 
largeness  of  aim  and  outlook.  Sais,  the  capital,  throve 
apace,  though  Memphis,  the  old-time  northern  seat  of 
empire,  was  also  patronized.  The  name  of  another  city, 
Thebes,  or  No- Anion,  recalls  a  calamity  that  thrilled  with 


M  I 


■ :    |i 


1    I 


nil 


134 


XECIIO   II 


Book  IX 


its  horrors  the  lands  across  the  Isthmus  (§  770)  and 
reminded  the  world  that  the  glory  of  Upper  Egypt  had 
(U'[)arted.  Tlie  seat  of  power  was  permanently  lixed  in 
the  Delta,  and  the  old  sacred  cities  on  the  undivided  Nile 
took  their  place  among  the  numberless  monuments  of  the 
past.  Sais  became  one  of  the  world's  centres  of  influence. 
(Jreek  mercenaries  and  Tyrian  merchants,  both  of  whom 
were  granted  settlements  in  tlie  Delta,  spread  the  fame  of 
the  reviving  empire  of  the  Pharaohs  among  the  nations. 
The  reign  of  I'sammetichus,  remarkable  in  so  many  ways, 
was  distinguished  also  for  its  duration.  He  was  prince 
of  Sais  in  (XU  n.c,  deliverer  and  undisputed  ruler  of 
Egypt  in  04'),  and  died  about  010. 

§  1081.  Necho  II,  the  Neeho  of  the  Bil)le,  continued 
his  father's  general  policy  and  sought  to  sur[)ass  his 
achievements.  The  encouragement  of  foreign  S(»ldiers, 
sailors,  and  traders  brought  with  it  an  astonishing  spirit 
of  connnercial  enterprise.  lie  attempted  to  restore  the 
old  Suez  (^anal,  but  the  work  was  too  heavy,  and  he  was 
compelled  to  desist.^  Herodotus ^  informs  us  that  Necho 
had  fleets  of  triremes  in  the  l?ed  Sea  as  well  as  in  the 
Mediterranean.  His  statement^  that  this  I'haraoh  sent 
IMio'iiiciiin  shii)s  from  the  Red  Sea,  which  sailed  around 
Africa  ("Libya")  and  returned  through  the  straits  of 
(iibraltar  in  the  thiid  year  of  their  voyage,  is  now  accepted 
as  true,  being  conlirmed  by  the  rei)ort  of  the  nuiriners 
that  during  the  trip  they  came  to  a  stage  where  the 
rising  sun  was  on  their  right  hand;  that  is,  they  turned 
to  the  north  after  sailing  to  the  south. 

§  1032.  Of  more  direct  concern  to  us  is  the  new  de- 
]>artiire  of  Pharaoh  Necho  in  foreign  political  relations. 
1 1  is  father  had  spent  his  chief  energies  in  l)uilding  u[)  and 
securing  the  kingdom  which  he  had  freed,  aiul  had  forti- 
iied   ids    frontier  cities  south,  nortliwest,  and  northeast. 

1  Tliis  must  be  the  real  nieaniiigof  the  exaggerated  Htory  of  Ileroilotua, 
II,  I.-.8. 

i!  Hook  II,  159.  »/i.  IV,  42. 


m 


Cii.  VI,  §  10:{3 


LWASION  OF   SYRIA 


i;55 


Yet  Herodotus*  tells  of  his  Imving  taken  Ashdod  after  a 
lonj^  series  of  eaiiij)ai<(iis,  endiuj^  perhajis  about  Glo  It.c. 
It  is  <loubtful  if  this  eonquest  was  maintained,  but  it 
shows  Iiow  eaj^er  tbe  E<^yptians  were  to  secure  a  base  of 


operation.' 


in  A 


sia  aj^ainst  Assyria.      When  Neclio  eanie 


to  the  thront',  that  empire  had  been  shorn  of  its  power, 
strippe<l  of  its  possessions,  and  dethroned  from  its  su[»rem- 
aey.  The  Vuni  was  no  more  kin^  of  tbe  forest,  but  was  at 
bay  in  liis  lair  CNah,  ii.  11  f.),  and  was  beini,'  j»ressed  bard 
by  the  hunters,  furious  at  the  loss  of  the  ehoieest  of  their 
Hock.    Now  at  last  Kj^ypt  seeme<l  to  have  her  opportunity. 


It 


was  lou''  since  sIk;  had  ruled  in  the  Westland  of  Asia. 


For  centuries  slie  had  played  a  waitinij  policy,  actini^  on 
the  defensive,  except  whei.  she  was  herself  a  subject  state 
of  the  hated  Assyrian. 

§  1<>:}:5.  It  was  in  Necho's  third  year  ((iOS  ii.c. )  that 
he  brou^dit  bis  motley  army  across  tiie  Istinnus.  Nineveh 
had  not  yet  fallen  and  had  still  a  name  to  live,  but  now 
there  was  none  to  defeml  the  rich  provinces  of  Mesoi)o- 
tamia  an<l  Syria,  whence  her  ^nirrisons  had  been  with- 
drawn. \'i.>ii»ns  of  a  larLjer  l\!,'yi)t  rose  before  tbe 
I'haraoh's  imagination,  an  empire  unrestrained  by  tbe 
desert,  of  whicli  Tyre,  the  market-place  of  the  world, 
shoubl  be  tbe  centre.  The  concpicsts  of  Thothmes  and 
Kameses,  innnortalized  in  pa[tyrus  and  stone,  should  be 
outdone  by  his  acbievements.  When  he  took  the  fateful 
ste[»,  crossed  the  lliver  of  K<,'ypt  and  entered  the  I'hilis- 
tian  plains,  he  looked  to  meet  with  such  a  welcome  as 
that    wbicli,  a    century    before,    had    Ljreeted    from    afar 


tl 


le 


f  i<: 


expected   niari;n   ot   r^gyptian  aiinies 


Tl 


len 


Ix-^j^ypt 


was  tbe  hope  of  the  desp«'rate  communities  of  Palestine, 
^oade(l  to  madness  l)y  Assyrian  extortion.  H<j;'yi)t  was  tbe 
traditit»nal  ally  of  the  oppressed  peoples  all  aloui,'  tbe  line 
of  march.     They  will,  he  thinks,  make  no  o[)i)osition  to 


m 


,'1 


r 


>  Th.  II,  l^il.    .J«'n-fiii;ih  xxv.  20  Biwaks  of  "  Askalon,  Gaza,  ami  Ekroii, 
and  the  reuiiiant  of  AhIu1(k1." 


rr 


Wr"^E"-"iB«»i 


130 


JOSIAH   SLAIN   IN  BAITLE 


Book  IX 


is :  I 


S^l 


him  now,  and  perhaps  some  sturdy  bfinds  of  shepherds  or 
hunters  will  join  his  ranks  for  pay  or  the  hope  of  plun- 
der. He  does  not  dream  of  an  attack  from  the  only  self- 
contained  nation  this  side  of  the  Euphrates.  He  knows, 
to  be  sure,  that  Josiah  had  sworn  fealty  to  the  king  of 
Assyria ;  but  that  was  thirty  years  ago,  and  who,  in  any 
case,  would  keep  faith  with  a  moribund  oppressor  !  He 
passes  the  slopes  of  Judah  and  Benjamin  and  Ephraini. 
He  will  not  enter  their  territory  now,  or  even  negotiate 
with  the  king  of  Judah.  But  on  his  return,  victorious 
over  Nineveh  and  lord  of  Western  Asia,  how  eagerly  will 
the  remnant  of  Israel  c(>n.e  forth  to  offer  him  homage  ! 

§  1034.  He  enters  the  plain  of  Jezreel,  so  full  of  names 
that  recall  the  old-time  glories  of  the  Pharaohs.  Here  he 
becomes  aware  of  an  enemy  on  his  flank.  It  is  none  other 
than  Josiah  of  Judah,  who  undertakes  to  cut  oft"  his  march 
and  challenges  his  right  to  pass  through  the  limits  of 
ancient  Israel.  Nedio  sends  him  a  friendly  message. 
He  is  anxious  to  conciliate  him,  in  view  of  the  great  busi- 
ness now  in  hand.  "  What  have  I  to  do  with  thee,  thou 
king  of  Judah  ?  I  am  not  against  thee  this  day,  but  against 
the  (kingly)  house  with  which  I  am  at  war"  (2  Chr. 
XXXV.  21).  But  Josiah  will  not  listen.  The  armies  come 
together  at  Megiddo,  at  the  first  available  point  after  the 
plain  of  Esdraelon  (Jezreel)  had  been  entered  from  the 
southwest  by  the  pass  that  leads  from  the  vale  of 
Sharon.^      Josiah    is  hard   pressed  by  the   archers    and 

1  See  the  beautiful  map  in  IKl.  Plate  VI.  Professor  Sinitli  ai'sues 
rij;htly  atrainst  the  supposition  of  Herodotus  (11,  150)  that  Necho  sent  his 
troops  by  sea  to  the  eoast  and  then  followed  the  lanil  northeastward,  and 
remarks  that  in  that  case  he  would  have  landed  at  Akko  and  not  marched 
as  far  sotith  as  Meiriddo.  The  iv  y[ay56\<t>  of  nerodi>tus  points  to  a  con- 
fusion of  Meiriddo  with  the  freiiuently  occnrrinj;  *' Magdala."  The  site 
of  Mcfiiddo  is  the  modern  Li'jjnii ;  see  1I(».  p.  JW")  ff.  The  KiSuris  which 
Herodotus  mentions  as  a  lar<i;e  city  of  "  Syria,"  captured  by  Necho  after 
the  battle,  cannot  be  (Jaza,  as  some  suppose,  much  less  Jerusalem  (rnii ; 
vl  Kudu).  It  is  i)robably  an  Kj^yptian  reminiscence  of  Kadesh  on  the 
(►routes  (§  102  f.).  The  allusion  in  Jer.  xlvii.  1  may  perhaps  b"  ex- 
plained as  an  episode  of  the  expedition  of  587  (xxxvii.  5). 


Ch.  VI,  §  1037  HIS  CASE   AGAINST   EGYPT 


137 


"sore  wounded"  (2  Ch.  xxxv.  23).  He  is  transferred 
by  his  men  to  n  "  second  chariot,"  and  over  the  hills  of 
Ephraim  he  is  brought  home  to  Jerusalem  to  die. 

§  1035.  The  calamity  was  great  and  irreparable,  and  the 
grief  of  the  people  of  Judah  could  not  be  restrained. 
'*  And  all  Judah  and  Jerusalem  mourned  for  Josiah.  And 
Jeremiah  lamented  for  Josiah.  And  all  the  singing  men 
and  singing  women  celebrate  Josiah  in  their  dirges  until 
this  day.  And  thc}"^  made  them  a  custom  in  Israel,  and 
behold  they  are  written  ii:  the  dirges  "  (2  Chr.  xxxv.  24  f.). 
But  no  lamentations  could  bring  back  the  good  king  to 
the  land  that  he  alone  could  rule  aright ;  or  to  his  boys, 
who  were  exposed  by  his  death  to  dangers  and  temptations 
from  without  and  within  ;  or  to  the  work  of  Jehovah, 
whicli  none  of  his  kingly  successors  had  the  grace  or  the 
power  to  continue. 

§  1036.  But  to  the  stricken  people  the  folly  was  not  so 
obvious  as  it  is  to  us.  Let  us  see  what  Josiah's  motives 
must  have  been.  We  may  well  suppose  that  he  was 
influenced  by  his  oath  of  allegiance  to  Assyria.  We 
know  what  the  prophetic  view  of  this  relation  was. 
In  the  solemn  adjuration  it  was  not  simjdy  the  gods  of 
the  suzerain  whose  vengeance  was  invoked  upon  the 
recreant,  but  the  (iod  of  his  own  land  also,  who  was  held 
to  have  abjured  his  prerogative,  and  to  have  placed  his 
subjects  at  the  disposal  of  the  servants  of  Asshur  (cf.  2  K. 
xviii.  25  ;  §  290,  700).  And  in  proportion  to  the  piety 
and  (idelity  of  Josiah  must  have  been  his  sense  of  tlie 
obligation  to  •  >ep  faith  with  his  superior.  Josiah's  con  - 
pact  with  Assyria  doubtless  also  included  the  obligation 
on  his  part  to  protect,  as  far  as  possible,  the  wliole  of 
Palestine,  over  which  the  empire  of  the  Tigris  had  held 
direct  sway  for  more  ihan  a  century. 

§  1037.  However  we  may  regard  this  aspect  of  the 
situation,  we  would  in  any  case  iind  a  justification  for  tlie 
aggressive  action  of  the  king  of  Judali,  in  the  Kgy[)tian 
invasion   of   his  northern   border.     Egyptian   success  in 


^1 


w 

■'■  r. 


1 

i  ''il 


^ 

M 


Mil  " 


\A 


If— """^pp"™ 


■■VI 


138 


EGYPTIANS   IN  SYHIA 


Book  IX 


Syria  ineiint  the  oeituiii  subjection  of  Jiiclah,  the  exchange 
of  a  nominal  vassahijj^e  to  Assyria  for  assured  sul)niission 
to  Eo'ypt.  I  low  abhorrent  this  must  have  appeared  to  a  true 
servant  of  Jehovah  we  can  readily  imajjfine.  Anionjj^  other 
evils  it  miji^ht  involve  the  addition  of  African  deities  to  tiie 
mixed  and  impure  worshii)  which  had  just  been  sui)pressi'd 
but  not  extir[»ated.  A  student  and  disciple  of  the  proph- 
ets must  have  borne  in  mind  their  warnings  against  an 
Egyptian  alliance,  and  their  denunciations  of  Egypt  itself. 
In  the  imi)ending  struggle  Judah  must  be  either  an  ally 
or  an  enemy  of  Egy[)t ;  and  the  choice  made  by  Josiah 
Avas  not  unworthy  of  a  kingly  soul,  desperate  as  was  liis 
march  to  the  fatal  plain  of  Megiddo. 

§  10:)8.  Thus  Judah  came,  for  the  first  and  last  time, 
under  Egyptian  control.  IJut  the  badge  of  servitude  was 
not  at  (Mice  allixed.  Assured  of  the  ultimate  acijuisition 
of  Jerusalem,  Necho  continued  his  northward  march  till 
he  reached  a  point  whence  he  could  direct  operations 
simultaneously  against  both  northern  and  southern  Syria, 
and  at  the  same  time  prevent  an  uprising  in  Palestine 
itself.  It  was  at  Kiblah  on  the  Orontes  route  to  the 
Eni)hrates  (§  202)  in  the  northern  portion  of  Ciele-Syria, 
that  he  fixed  his  camji  —  a  station  which  remained  the 
hcadcpiarters  of  great  foreign  armies  of  occupation  till  the 
end  of  the  Judaite  monarchy  *  {§  1'213). 

§  10;}9.  Meantime  the  inevitable  revtdution  took  place 
in  the  little  kingdom  thus  bereft  of  head  and  hope.  As 
often  hai)peni'd  in  an  ancient  Oriental  state  suddenly  left 
kingless,  two  parties  were  formed.  The  one  counselled 
sui)mission  to  l\gyi)t.  The  other,  consisting  of  the  "pet)ple 
of  the  land"' (  §  H0«1),   f  >od  for  patriotic  indei)endence.    'J'he 

'  It  is  iutiTt'stini;  to  observe  how  the  general  oomlitioiis  of  waifare  in 
the  Westland  iiad  rhanfjeil  sinoe  tlie  days  of  Tiitlatiipih'ser  III.  'J'hen 
the  fireat  vantage  points  were  Arjjad,  Ilaniath,  and  Damascus  (§  2!M, 
307,  :>.'{.'»).  Now  from  one  central  rendezvous  the  whole  of  Syria  and 
I'aiestine  could  be  overlooked  and  controlh'd  ;  so  nnich  had  the  Assyrian 
arms  and  government  and  military  routes  unitied  the  lands  and  the 
peoples. 


Ill 


Cm.  VI,  §  io;;n 


KING  JKIIOAHAZ 


I.JO 


sturdy  freeholders,  who  liad  begun  to  feel  the  blessint^s 
of  a  hn\\T  peace  and  riji^hteous  athninistration,  foreI»(»ded 
impoverishment  from  the  E,<j^yi)tian  yoke  witli  its  tines 
and  tribute,  and  set  upon  the  throne  Josiah's  son  Jehoahaz 
(2  K.  xxiii.  80).  Of  his  unfortunate  younjif  life  oiily 
shadowy  recollections  were  left  even  to  his  own  and  tlu; 
next  ireneration.     W 


e  are  not  (piite  sure  what  place  he 
lield  in  the  family  of  Josiah.*  It  is  [jrobable  that  lie  was 
the  second  son  and  that  the  older,  Jehoiakim,  beinj^  fav- 
ourable to  Kgyptian  rule  (ef.  2  K.  xxiii.  o4),  was  put  aside 
l)y  the  independent  faction.  His  given  name  seems  to 
have  been  .Shalhun  (.ler.  xxii.  11).  Of  liis  generiU 
character  we  have  little  or  no  indication.  The  poetical 
sketch  l)y  Ezekiel  (xxi.  ^5),  which  is  identical  with  that 
drawn  of  Jehoiakim  (xix.  G),  is  nothing  more  than  a  charac- 
terization of  the  average  king  of  Judah.  His  reign  of  three 
months  was,  indeed,  too  brief  to  leave  any  detinite  impres- 
sion. Courage,  at  least,  was  shown  by  his  deliance  of  the 
Egyptian  king  and  army.     The  next  step  was  the  natural 


setj 


uel   to    the   overthrow  of   Josiah.     A    force  was   sent 


against    .Jerusalem.       The    citv    was   besieged   and    soon 
ca))itulated.       Jehoahaz  was   dethroned   and   brought    in 

^  Accordiuf;  to  2  K.  xxiii.  ."il.  Jelumhaz  was  twtiity-tiirce  years  old 
at  liis  accessiini,  and  acconlini;  to  xxiii.  ."if!  his  bruilier  .It-lioialiiiii  was 
twonty-live.  Ilfiu'i'  we  would  iiitL-r  tiial  .luliualiaz  was  llit-  si'cuiid  in  a.Lje. 
IJut  the  list  of  the  sons  of  .losiali  in  1  ("lir.  iii.  17  f.  (in  which  the  Lufian 
Sept.  reads  correctly  ".lelmaliaz  "  instead  of  the  unknown  "Johanan" 
of  the  received  text)  dedans  him  to  he  the  eldest.  What  is  still  more 
extraordinary,  the  same  list,  uivinj;  four  sons,  calls  the  youngest  ••  Shal- 
lum,"  the  name  by  which  Jehoahaz  is  known  to  Jeremiah  (xxii.  II). 
From  this  one  nu,i;ht  he  tempted  to  infer  that  Jehoahaz  was  really  the 
youn.i;est  son,  whom  the  landholders  had  enthroned  as  a  mere  lad  and  as 
thus  beiiiir  more  likely  to  yield  to  their  purposes;  that  "Johanan,"  the 
eldest,  had  ilied  in  infancy  ;  and  that  the-'  twenly-lhret!  "  of  l'  K.  xxiii.  ;!1 
(copied  in  2  Chr.  xxxvi.  2)  is  an  error.  More  likely  is  it,  however,  that 
the  compilers  of  the  list  of  sons,  overlooking  the  identity  of  Jehoahaz  and 
Shallum.  found  a  place  foi  the  latter  name  by  pnttins;  it  at  the  end  of 
the  group.  Aijain.  it  is  quite  po.ssible  that  the  same  compilers,  taking 
account  of  the  fact  that  Jehoahaz  was  the  first  to  ascend  the  throne, 
assumed  that  he  wiis  the  eldest. 


I 


m 

■>  i  i' 


ill 


ii 


ill 


V. 


140 


THE   EXILED   KING   AND   HIS  SUCCESSOR      Book  IX 


chains  to  Pharaoh  in  his  northern  encampment.  His 
fate  was  such  as  in  those  days  befitted  a  rebel  of  the  first 
degree.  He  was  carried  .away  to  Egypt  (2  K.  xxiii.  34) 
with  every  mark  of  ignominy  (cf.  Ez.  xix.  4  and  §  802). 
With  him  were  deported  a  considerable  number  of  the 
people,  who  formed  a  sort  of  colony  for  a  few  years  at  least 
(Jer.  xxiv.  8).  There  he  remained  a  prisoner,  and  no  man 
knows  when  death  released  him  from  that  ancient  "house 
of  bondage."  Though  little  trace  is  left  of  him  in  the 
records  of  history  or  in  human  memory,  certain  words 
uttered  concerning  him,  more  perhaps  in  sorrow  than 
regret,  are  unforgetable. 

"  Do  not  weep  for  the  dead, 
And  do  not  mourn  for  him  ; 
Weep  sore  for  him  tiiat  goetli  away, 
For  he  shall  never  more  return, 
And  see  the  land  of  his  birth.* 

"  For  thus  saith  Jehovah  as  to  Shallum,  son  of  Josiah, 
king  of  Judah,  who  reigned  instead  of  Josiah  his  father, 
and  who  went  forth  from  this  place  :  He  shall  not  return 
thither  any  more.  For  in  this  place  whither  they  carried 
him  captive  there  he  shall  die,  and  this  land  he  shall  see 
no  more."     (Jer.  xxii.  10  f.  ;  cf.  §  1143.) 

§  1040.  Eliakim  ("  Whom  God  establishes  "),  presuma- 
bly the  eldest  son  of  Josiah,  was  now  placed  upon  the 
throne  by  the  Egyptian  invader  to  advertise  to  the  world 
his  own  supremacy  in  Palestine,  and  to  im[)ress  upon  the 
people  of  Judah  their  change  of  masters.  Pharaoli  modi- 
fied  his  name  ^   to  Jehoiakim  ("  Whom    Jehovah   estab- 

>  Cf.  §  301,  and  the  article,  "What  Exile  meant  to  Israel,"  in  the 
Sumlrtij  School  Thni-s,  Sept.  9.  1899. 

*  There  was  no  usnge  among  ancient  Orientals  more  expressive  than 
the  giving  of  personal  names.  Tlie  name  was  not  a  label,  as  it  is  with 
us,  but  Ji  characteristic.  In  Hebrew  phraseology  it  is  sometimes  even 
equivalent  to  the  person  himself,  as  "the  name  of  Jehovah."  Among 
other  relations  it  specially  indicates  that  of  dependence,  above  all  when 
it  is  "  theophorous,"  or  bears  the  name  of  a  deity  (cf.  §407).  In  tiie 
present  case  Necho  would  not  alter  the  essential  meaning  of  the  name,  fur 


Cii.  VI,  §  1042      EGYPT   AM)  THE  CIIALDyKAXS 


141 


lislics").  A  tine  of  one  hundred  talents  of  silver  and 
one  talent  of  gold  was  levied  directly  upon  the  land,  and 
til  is  amount  was  duly  exacted  from  the  batUed  freeholders 
(2  K.  xxiii.  38). 

§  1041.  Jehoiakim  had  as  king  a  didicult  task  to  fulfil, 
and  neither  his  mental  nor  his  moral  endowments  were 
equal  to  his  responsibilities,  llis  character  will  recjuiro 
our  attention  later,  as  a  matter  of  Biblical  interest  (§  112:i). 
We  are  now  more  directly  concerned  witli  the  events  of 
his  reign.  For  three  years  and  longer  the  Egyptian  yoke 
was  worn  by  the  people  of  Judah.  Probably  a  reasonable 
autonomy  was  granted  them.  Egyj)t's  best  policy  was 
to  make  the  dependence  as  little  galling  as  possible  ;  for, 
though  rebellion  was  certain  to  be  unsuccessful,  the  hands 
of  the  Egyptians  were  tied  by  the  necessity  of  guarding 
the  eastern  frontier  of  their  newly  acquired  possession. 
And  ere  long  their  light-hearted  campaign  was  completely 
frustrated  by  the  Chaldtean  coiuiueri)!",  who  had  already 
claimed  the  Assyrian  realm  as  liis  inheritance  and  was 
steadily  advancing  to  the  realization  of  his  purpose. 

§  1042.  The  rec()n(|uest  of  the  Assyrian  provinces  of 
the  West  was,  however,  not  to  be  the  achievement  of 
Nabopalassar  himself.  According  to  the  account  which 
we  get  from  Herossus  by  way  of  Josephus,  the  C'haldiean 
leader  remitted  this  arduous  task  to  his  son  Nebuchad- 
rezzar, Mho  was  said  to  have  borne  an  important  share  in 
the  con(|uest  of  Nineveh.  He  had  had  a  busy  life,  spent 
in  the  slow  process  of  building  up  his  native  state  till 
it  could  divide  with  the  aggressive  Median  power  the 
sovereignty  of  the  richest  portion  of  tl.e  world,  lie  had 
now  si)ent  two  yeai's  at  least  (cf.  §  S2T)  in  the  business  of 
introducing  law  and  order  int()  his  eastern  provinces.  I5ut 
it  was  a  matter  of  time  to  win  over  the  country  between 

.lutlah  was  still  .Tehovali's  land.  But  the  very  sliglitost  change  in  the  form 
wiiulil  imply  his  authority  as  the  nanier,  anil  therefore  the  niiwter,  of  the 
subject  prince.  At  the  same  time  the  term  chuseu  would  indicate  hia 
patronage  of  the  local  religion  of  Jehovah. 


ll 


111 


•  I  ; 
■  '  I 
I   '1 


m 


r 

.'     \ 

1 

142 


EGYIT  GIVES  PLACE   TO   BABYLOXIA 


Book  IX 


the  Rivers  to  the  new  regime,  and  to  adjust  so  many  un- 
settled districts  to  the  new  government. 

§  1043.  It  wu.s,  accordingly,  not  till  G05  that  young 
Nebuchadrezzar  was  ready  to  cross  the  Euphrates.  His 
encounter  with  the  Egy[)tians  must  have  seemed  a  predes- 
tined success.  Pharaoh  Necho,  in  spite  of  his  years  of 
occupation,  soon  realized  how  insecure  was  his  tenure  of 
the  old  Egyptian  possessions  (§  1038).  He  did  not  dare 
to  meet  the  advance  of  the  Chaldteans  on  the  east  of  the 
River,  but  nuide  his  stand  at  Carchemisii  (Jer.  xlvi.  2), 
the  famous  old  fortress  and  emporium  on  the  western 
side.  The  defeat  of  the  Egyptians  was  followed  by  their 
retreat  and  their  eventual  abandonment  of  their  Asiatic 
dominions.  Thus  the  futility  of  Egypt  as  a  military 
power  was  once  more  demonstrated,  and  its  fondest  hopes 
of  an  Asiatic  empire  shattered  forever. 

§  1044.  The  kingdom  of  Judah  fell  in  due  course  to 
the  victorious  Chahhean.  The  fate  of  the  Hebrew  i)eo- 
ple  was  henceforth  for  nearly  ninety  years  bound  up  with 
the  policy  and  foitunes  of  the  Babylonian  empire.  Our 
interest  in  their  outer  and  inner  history  becomes  more 
intelligent  when  we  remend)er  their  wider  relations. 
Whether  at  home  as  a  subject  state,  or  in  exile  as  a  band 
of  slaves,  the  Hebrew  community  was  but  one  of  a  number 
which  owned  the  sovereignty  of  Babylon,  and  i)layed  their 
parts  in  the  world  under  its  protection  and  surveillance, 
and  under  the  external  conditions  which  it  im[)osed.  We 
must  therefore  try  to  get  some  tolerably  correct  notion 
of  the  genius  and  scope  of  this  later  Babylonian  regime, 
and  of  the  policy  of  the  ruler  who  made  so  deep  an  impress 
upon  his  own  and  later  times. 


I  < 


,■1  ■ 

fi.  1 


Book  X 


HEBREWS  AND  CILiLDyEAXS 


CHAPTER   I 


,n  I 


I 


;  ■-( . 


BABYLON   AND   NEBUCHADUEZZAR 

§  1045.  We  have  now  arrived  at  one  of  tliose  tiirninj:^- 
points  in  the  affairs  of  Israel  and  of  the  world,  which  may 
well  make  us  pause  for  a  hrief  retrospect.  There  is  a 
widesi)read  impression  that  ancient  Semitic  histor}-,  in  con- 
trast with  that  of  tiie  Western  lands,  is  monotonous  and 
lifeless,  devoid  of  a  continuous  purpose  and  of  jjreat 
inward  motives.  One  of  the  aims  of  the  present  work 
is  to  rectify  this  error,  and  to  show  to  what  great  issues 
the  history  of  the  North  Semitic  conununities  c»)ntinually 
and  coherently  tended.  Next  to  Israel  itself  the  njost 
potent  factor  in  this  process  of  the  aj^es  was  Bain ionia. 
The  sij^nilicance  of  some  of  the  very  earliest  movements 
in  the  valley  of   the  lower  Euphrates   has   heen  already 


foreshadowed  (§ 


110,    2!>1),  and    will   soon   appear 


more  clearly  in  the  unfoldinjif  of  the  decisive  events. 
Even  tlie  liistory  of  the  Assyrian  em[)ire,  involvinj^  the 
fate  of    Israel   and  of    Western   Asia  durin<r  its  critical 


epochs,  was 


hut 


I  side-current  in  a  larger  stream,  fed  at 


the  hef^inninjjf,  and  ever  and  anon  replenished,  by  iJahy 
Ionian  thought  and  endeavour. 

148 


^^ 


■r    • 


'H,i 


h 


iil; 


f  ■■»' 


',; 


;    U 


144 


STORY   OF  THE   CHALDyEANS 


Book  X 


§  1040.  From  the  political  and  moral  standpoint  none 
of  thu.se  movements  was  more  important  than  the  latest 
of  the  Babylonian  revolutions  —  that  which  made  the 
Chaldteans  leaders  of  the  Semitic  world.  Apart  from 
the  essential  significance  of  this  movement  there  attachea 
to  the  story  of  the  ChakUeans  a  romantic  interest  but 
seldom  awakened  by  the  achievements  of  Oriental  com- 
munities. The  nearest  parallel  is  that  afforded  by  the 
history  of  the  rise  of  Judah  to  predominance  among  the 
tribes  of  Israel.  Hut  in  the  vicissitudes  of  the  Chahhean 
princes  there  is  even  more  of  heroic  and  i)atriotic  achieve- 
ment than  that  which  has  made  so  illustrious  and  fasci- 
nating the  career  and  adventures  of  David.  Their  (ifforts 
to  exi)cl  the  Assyrians  from  Babylon,  and  to  secure  for 
themselves  the  dominion  which  they  alone  had  the  genius 
and  the  courage  to  administer,  lasted  for  a  century  and 
a  half,  and  was  carried  on  during  most  of  that  period 
against  fearful  odds. 

§  1047.  To  recall  to  the  reader  their  deeds  and  their 
fate  1  need  only  refer  to  the  earlier  passages  in  this  work 
devoted  to  their  conunemoration.  Under  their  own  pr()[)er 
name  they  come  lirst  into  view  in  the  ninth  century  u.v. 
(§  228).  For  a  hundred  years  they  submit  with  but  little 
resistance  to  the  Assyrian  kings.  Next  we  see  their 
tribes  resisting  in  connnon  the  Assyrian  encroachments, 
and  showing  on  their  own  i)art  an  etpud  and  uniipie 
aggressiveness.  Then  we  find  them  during  the  reigns  of 
Sargon  and  Sinacherib  uiuler  tiie  leadership  of  the  great 
Merodach-baladan  aspiring  to  the  possession  of  Babylon 
itself,  and  maintaining  there  an  intermittent  autliority, 
fraternizing  with  the  patri«)tic  party  throughout  Babylonia, 
winning  over  for  a  time  the  all-powerful  priestly  interests, 
and  when  forced  to  retreat  to  their  native  haunts  by  the 
sea,  proving  themselves  to  be  almost  an  invincible  foe. 
The  persistent  onslanghts  of  Sinacherib  kept  tliem  in  the 
background,  and  thereafter  till  the  end  of  the  Ass3'rian 
empire  they  were  forced  to  content  themselves  with  re- 


Cii.  I,  §  inif) 


TIIKIIl   OHIfJIN   AND   (JKMUS 


145 


prisiils  and  prociirious  iilliiiiK'us  with  the  fofs  of  the  op- 
jUTHSor.  'I'he  UnkUts  of  tlie  ChiiUhiMii  upi'isiii<^  were 
liiinted  down  iiiid  extenniiiated  to  ilio  third  ^cnenition  l»v 
ihi"  htst  of  the  j^reat  Assyrian  kin^rs.  Hut  thi'  ovt'rlhrnw 
of  his  dynasty  and  the  (U\strni'tion  of  Ids  empire  soon  fnl- 
h)\ved  as  the  Nemesis  of  this  and  kindred  atrocities,  and 
swift  as  was  Assyria's  decline  and  fall,  swift  also  was  the 
rise  of  the  Chaldiean  power. 

^  1048.     Obscure  as  is  the  orij^in  of  these  adventurers 
from  the  "Sea-land,"  their  national  character  and  politi- 


cal   mi 
antecei 


thod 
lent 


s    are    uinnis 


tak 


il)lv    clear 


T 


lough     their 


s  seem  nnfavourahle  to  such  an  historical 
role,  they  were  «;enuinely  liabylonian  in  their  s|)irit  and 
aims,  and  completely  identilled  with  the  olil  IJahylonian 
j)olicy  in  chunih  and  state.  Nor  was  this  attaclnneiil  ti» 
IJahylonian  thin^fs  and  ideas  a  mere  ri'sult  of  their acfpiisi- 
tion  of  the  city  of  l»al>ylon  with  its  impnsiui^  institutions 
and  ins[»irini^  traditions.  From  the  earliest  time  of  their 
a[>pearanci!  in  history  they  show  evidenct!  of  a  certain 
community  with  the  very  locality  which  afterwards 
heeanie   the    centre   of  tl 


leir    (lonnnion. 


Tl 


leir   tavounte 


olijects  of  worshi[>,  as  we  learn  from  tin;  namiuif  of  their 
children,  weri'  precisi'ly  those  deities  which  weiv  honoured 
alinve  all  in  l»al)ylon  and  Morsippa,  the  <if«)ds  Mi'r(»dach 
and  Neho.  This  coincidence,  with  the  fiict  that  they 
seemed  to  claim  a  certain  ri<,dit  to  ruh;  and  protect 
the  city  of  l>al)yl()n,  su,yi;'ests  that  whatever  may  have 
been  the  oriLfin  of  ihe  bulk  of  the  poi>ulation  (cf.  §  liii^i), 
at  least  the  ruling  class  were  of  Babylonian  origin  in  the 
strictest  sense  of  the  term.  They  wen;  iK)ssibly  a  colony 
driven  southward  by  the  Kasshite  invaders  (§  1"20  IT.). 

§  1049.  Along  with  these  tendencies  the  ("hahhean 
empire  established  by  Nebuchadrezzar  exhibited  a  genius 
for  centralizing  government  which  was  distinctively  Assyr- 
ian. The  new  establishment,  standing  as  it  did  in  the 
direct  line  of  im[)erial  development  which  culminated  in 
the  Roman  empire  (§  G),  naturally  enough  assimilated  the 


K\ 


i '  In 

m 


:  1 


m 
I 

•I 


if' 


m  I  'P 


140 


NO  niALD.KAN   IIEVOLUTION   IN  ASIA 


Hook  X 


I     . 


jiiitc'cc'di'iit  political  iind  national  types.  The  temper  of 
the  Hal>\  Ionian  people,  encouraged  by  the  religious  and 
nuTcantile  hahit,  was  politically  too  inert  to  secure  the 
supremacy  or  even  the  continued  liberty  of  the  state. 
Assyria,  on  the  other  hand,  had  perfected  a  military  and 
political  system,  which  if  imitated  with  moderation  and 
caution,  might  well  be  expected  to  endure  in  peace 
and  safety.  It  is  this  synthesis  in  tlie  Chaldiean  mon- 
archy of  the  Ilabylonian  and  Assyrian  types  of  national 
spirit  and  i)urpose  which  has  given  such  signillcance  to  the 
closing  epoch  of  the  ancient  Semitic  regime.  iJut  of  this 
later  on.  We  are  now  to  see  how  Nebuchadrezzar  the 
Chalda'an  dealt  with  the  old  subject  states  of  the  West. 

§  1050.  Though  the  Chaldiean  type  of  government 
had  such  a  general  resemblance  to  its  predecessor,  the 
process  of  erecting  the  new  emi)ire  upon  the  ruins  of  the 
old  almost  seems  to  have  violated  a  necessary  law  of 
Oriental  Instory.  Nineveh  had  fallen;  but  would  not 
the  victor  ruling  in  Babylon  continue  the  policy  and  the 
methods  of  the  Assyrian  empire  in  all  their  rigour? 
Western  Asia  had  never  known  such  a  stern  regimen  as 
that  which  was  wielded  from  the  banks  of  the  Tigris, 
nor  was  any  such  to  be  henceforth  known  in  that  ill-fated 
land,  until  Tartar  cruelty  and  Muslim  intolerance  were 
made  secure  by  "Christian"  diplomacy,  until  Assyrian 
paganism  was  outdone  in  savage  lust  by  a  system  which 
follows  up  conquest  with  devastation,  and  prolongs  the 
horrors  of  war  in  official  rapine  and  murder.  In  the 
remaking  of  the  nations,  after  the  collapse  of  Assyria, 
there  was  something  new  under  the  sun.  It  had  been 
the  standing  order  of  the  ancient  world  that  one  form 
of  tyranny  over  feeble  states  should  be  superseded  by 
another  equally  galling,  that  the  resettlement  of  affairs 
in  the  subject  territory  should  involve  the  turmoil  and 
bloodshed  of  a  tedious  reconquest.  Such  was  not  the 
fate  of  the  lands  that  had  owned  the  sceptre  of  Nineveh. 
The  reason  was,  in  part,  that  they  were  weary  of  resist- 


Oil.  I,  §  1051 


NAHOrA  LASS  All 


II'; 


iinco  and  of  strife,  ami  were  rea<ly  In  accept  any  rule  tliat 
would  not  press  too  heavily.  'J'lie  work  of  subverting 
the  nations  iiad  heen  done  by  the  Assyrian  once  for  all. 
No  subjuf^ation  in  detail  was  needed  by  Chaldu'an  or  I'cr- 
sian  or  Macedonian  or  itonian.  Hence  the  wonder  of  the 
C'haldiean  revolution.  Momentous  as  was  the  etfacement 
of  the  iirst  empire  of  the  woild,  the  establishment  of  the 
second,  under  a  new  auto(;rat,  did  not  reverse  the  [)olitical 
fortunes  of  the  dependent  peoples.  With  them  tlu'  deci- 
sive question  was  whether  the  Assyrian  should  have  an 
imperial  successor.  When  this  issue  was  fully  dcc-ided, 
the  affairs  of  the  Semitic  world  resumed  their  normal 
course,  with  Habylon  at  the  helm  instead  of  Nimvch. 
Syria  and  Palestine  were  longer  disturbed  than  tlu;  other 
old  dependencies  of  Assyria,  but  the  distortion  was  soon 
set  right  again. 

§  lOol.  This  freedom  from  disturbance  was  also  due, 
in  large  measure,  to  the  character  of  the  first  two  rulers 
of  the  new  empire,  who  were  men  remarkable  for  energy 
and  wisdom.  The  earlier  career  of  Nabopalassar  (Oiio- 
605  B.C.)  ^  has  already  been  described.  His  breadth  of 
view  was  shown  by  liis  alliance  Avith  Cyaxares  of  Media, 
and  by  his  plans  for  the  organization  of  the  dominion  that 
fell  so  suddenly  into  his  hands.  The  allotment  t)f  the  re- 
spective spheres  of  control,  which  eventually  became,  in 
both  cases,  actual  possessions,  was  made  on  the  simple  and 


•  Of  this  epoch-in<aking  prince  something  more  personal  is  known  from 
his  own  inscriptions.  He  appears  as  the  devout  restorer  of  the  temple 
of  Merodach,  "the  temple  of  the  foundations  of  heaven  and  earth"  in 
Babylon,  and  of  the  temple  of  Belit  (IJeltis)  at  Sippar.  His  care  for  Sip- 
par  is  also  shown  by  his  having  built  a  canal  for  restoring  the  dettected 
waters  of  the  Euphrates  to  that  ancient  city  (§  94).  These  acts  indicate 
his  desire  to  make  northern  Babylonia,  which  had  been  longest  under 
Assyrian  control,  more  surely  Chaldean.  The  Merodach  temple  inscrip- 
tions are  published  by  Stra.ssmaier,  in  ZA.  iv,  129  ff.,  with  translation  (for 
which  cf.  KB.  iil,  2,  p.  2  ff.),  and,  after  a  more  complete  copy,  by  Hil- 
precht,  in  OliT.  I,  pi.  82,  33  (transcribed  by  D.  W.  McGee,  BA.  iii,  525  ff.) ; 
those  relatinj^  to  Sippar,  by  VVinckler,  in  ZA.  ii,  (id  ff.,  146  f.,  aud  172  f. 
(cf.  KB.  iii,  2,  p.  0  ff.,  and  BA.  iii,  627  f.). 


■'« 


>  r  .  I 


i 


:  f. 


m 


■I 


148 


MKDIAN  AND   HAHVLOXIAX    LIMIIS 


liooK  X 


()l)vi()ns  l)iisi.s  that  the  McmIcs  should  have  tlio  highlands  and 
till!  ('haldu'ans  the  lowlands  of  Western  Asia.  Eaeh  peo- 
pii!  thus  chose  according  to  its  i)n'vious  hal>it  of  life  and 
native  prefenMice,  and  upon  the  lines  thus  indicated  each 
advanced  till  the  limit  of  extension  was  reached.*  Hence 
tin'  ('hahhean  realm  end)raced  nearly  all  that  the  As- 
syrians had  suctu'cded  in  oi'gani/ing  iind  controlling  —  a 
territory  thus  made  ready  for  a  new  inqn'rial  adminis- 
tration. Assyria  pro[)er  (^  74)  was  itself  diviiled.  The 
noi'theiii  portion  lying  on  the  mountain  slopes  fell  to 
^Icilia,  which  thus  kept  guard  over  Nineveh,  while  that 
\Nhich  lay  to  the  south  of  the  Lower  Zal)  hecanu;  |{al)y- 
lonian.  The  houndaiT  lines,  delined  hy  nature,  were,  as 
far  as  we  know,  always  settled  amicably,  in  spite  of  the 
exj)ansion  of  tht'  two  empires  along  contigU(»us  lines. 
Mdi'Miver,  the  McmIcs  lu'came  indirectly  proleeioi-s  of 
haliylonia.  The  chief  danger  which  had  long  thrcateni'd 
the  Semitic  countrv.  and  which  contrihutecl  greatlv  to  tl 


le 


rum  o 


f   A.. 


ssvria,  was  tlie  uicui'sions  ot    mountain    trilies 


f 


from  till'  north.     'I'hcse  were  kept  in  hand  hy  the  Medes, 
who  made  them  either  allies  or  silhjeet.'s 

J;  jof):!,  ( )\i\y  two  years  of  life  remained  to  Nahojialassar 
after  the  fall  of  Nineveh,  and  it  was  reserved  to  his  illus- 
trious son  to  give  its  perniaiieiit  charaeter  to  the  ( 'hahhean 
name  ami  empire.  Neinieliadre/./.ai' I!  { Xiil>'i-/cii</i(r-nsin', 
"Neho,  preserve  the  hoiindary,"*  <i<M  oil^  n.c. ),  lli(»ugh 
the  Ik  .r  of  the  Assyrian  ni(»iiiiiehy,  was  a  genuine  IJahyhi- 
nian  in  spirit  and  temper,  lie  is,  indeecl.  the  re|iresenta- 
tivi  nahyhtuiau,  as  Ti',datlipileser  III  is  the  n^presenlat  ive 
.Assyrian.  Wiih  him  conquest  was  not  th«' occupation  nor 
dominion  the  end  of  the  life  of  a  monarch.  Tiu-si'  wi  re  a 
part  of  his  resp(»nsil(ilities  as  siieeessor  to  a  line  of  warriors 
and  world-rulers;  hut  his  real  iiitercsl  was  the  worship  of 


•  It  Ih  nott'Wciilliy  thill  tlu-  MiMli>-l'<rsiaii  expaiisiiui  iiiidcr  (\vru8 
(§  KMItT.)  ('iintiiiui'tl  in  tlif  .siiiii<>  (lircctiMii,  \\w  Habyloiiiiiii  nii|iii'c  rc- 
niiiiiiiiiK  iiiiiict  loii;<:  after  Cyrus  liitd  Htilulutti  tlif  wlmlt'tit  ilif  liiglilantlH 
lus  far  lus  the  coast  of  Ihu  .K|j;eaii. 


On.  T.  f  1053 


NEBrCIIADUKZZAR 


140 


his  '^fnU,  till;  care  of  their  temples,  and  the  iii»lmil(liii;^  of 
Hahyloiiia,  especially  of  its  cajjital  city.  As  the  head 
of  an  eiiii»ire  he  stood  midway  hetweeii  the  Assyrian  and 
the  I'ersian  types  :  he  did  not  harass  and  ravat,'e  his  subjects 
like  the  fonm-r,  while  he  did  not  study  local  interests  like 
the  latter  (see  §  1414).  He  cannot  fairly  he  called  an 
aj,';fressive  ruh-r.  1 1  is  ^'eneral  policy  was  rather  to  kcei> 
the  empire  intact,  aceordiii','  to  its  Assyrian  limits,  than 


to  ext«'nd    its  boundaries.      Hence,  as  a  rule,  he  :ivoi< 


led 


a- '' n-essi vc"  war  throu'diout  his  lonuf  rei-ni.  His  slowness 
to  undc-rtake  suppressive  campaii^ns,  and  the  freedom  he 
allowed  his  vassals,  as  in  the  ease  of  the  kind's  of  .Fiididi, 
were  <lii(.'  to  his  t<tlerant  and  ^'cnerous.  disposition,  as  well 
as  to  his  preoccupation  with  hisliciovcd  llabylon  ( v^  lOo")). 
He  n-ujinds   us  somewhat   of   Ksarhaddttn   (^  7t»-)   in   his 


1; 


irtrem'ss  o 


f  vi 


ew  and  •'■(mk 


Iness  of  hcurt.      ( )f  Nebuchad- 


rezzar alwi  it  can  be  said  that,  while  stern  toward  the 
leaders  of  a  rebellion,  the  mass  of  the  ott'endin'f  com- 
munity  were  treated  with  consid«'rati(tn  —  a  fact  to  wliidi 
the  jK'ople  of  .ludah  owed  their  survival. 

»5  iM.jo.  I'lidcr  the  old  Semitic  type  of  <:j()vernmcnt  a 
stronj,'  m<»nareh  literally  made  the  k.ii^dom  or  die  em- 
j)ir«'  (  ,:^  ol.  't'-'t\).  The  importam-e  of  Nclmchadre/.zar 
for  the  history  <»f  Israel  and  of  Uevclatiou  makes  it  foitu- 
nate  that  he  in  one  of  the  few  ancient  Orientals  of  wlmsi' 
jK-rsonality  we  can  jj;n\\\  some  knowle(l<ire.  Tl 
two  aspi'cts  of  his  cliaracter  which  s|>ci'ially  re\ca'  the 
siuiree  of  his  iunueni'e.  In  one  of  these  he  appt'ai's  as  a 
religious    man    and   in   the  otliei-  as  a  patriot.'       Stiictly 


lere    ar 

1 


'  It  in  only  tlifw  aH|HTts  of  liis  I'lianictrr  tliiit  air  illiisirati'il  in  liis 
iiiiiiHToim  iiiM-ripli'MiH  h<i  f.n-  ilisi'iivrrtii.  Like  ntlur  lial>\lniii.iii  kiii;:-». 
Ill- (Icsrrilxs  liiH  ii-iii]ilc.>»,  |.alart's.  ami  piililii"  works,  ami  iuiiincs  liis  niili- 
taiy  anil  |Hiliiii-;tl  acliiivi  Mi:'iits.  'I'lii-  |irim'i|>al  inililisluil  iiiscniiiiuii  is 
thai  ill  till-  |N/xtM-HMl'iii  iif  till-  Kasl  Imiiin  iMtii'c  in  Lumlnn.  in  airjiaic 
cli'inictiTs.  I  i{.  .'i:;-'>s  Mil  i-iiisivf  or  inoil:  rn  lialis  loiii;iii.  .Mi  (14  >.  I  It.  !'•■>  f. 
also  '^ivis  ihf  '■yliml«-r  iiiMTiptinu  first  piililisiii'il  I'V  liir  lanioiis  (iioiiti  ml 
ill  IstM.  aii<l  a  f«w  sIn.rUT  oiu'm  appt-ar  in  I  11.  '>1  f.  Since  tin  (latr  of  I  1{. 
( IHiil ;.  nevenil  oiIhth  have  Iteen  foumi  ami  pulijisliid.     Sio  llie  liansrrip- 


9. 

r 


m 


*V" 


W) 


A    KKLKIIOUS   niALD.EAN 


Book  X 


sjK'iikiiij^,  the  reliijiinis  sentinicnt  ex[)liiins  most  of  his 
imlilic  actions.  Hal)}  h)iiiiiii  kings  generally,  as  compared 
with  (hose  of  Assyria,  showed  their  <Ievotion  to  the  gods 
Ity  [jreserviiig  and  heantifying  their  sanetnaries  rather 
than  hy  snhdning  the  nations  in  order  to  increase  the 
nnndx'i-  of  their  votaries.  llow  mnch  more  highly  he 
estimated  liis  favonrite  form  of  jjraetieal  religion  is  evi- 
dent from  the  tenor  of  his  i)rineii)al  inseri])tion,  in  which 
he  makes  almost  the  oidy  allnsion  to  his  warlike;  achieve- 
ments fonnd  on  his  monnments.  In  this  passage.^  which 
merely  forms  part  of  an  introdnction  to  the  story  of  his 
works  of  piety  at  liome,  he  speaks  of  having  snhdned 
many  conntries  near  and  far  in  the  service  of  Merodach. 
§  Klol.  The  inseri[)tions  of  Nehnchadrezzar  are  not 
singular  in  being  full  of  devont  expivssions.  What  we 
observe  in  him  is  the  concentration  of  his  devotion  upon 
a  few  gods  of  tlie  |{al»ylonian  pantheon,  especially  Mero- 
dach, the  heiiler  and  protiH'tor  of  mankind,  and  his  son 

lese 


Niiho,    the    gt 


d    of    revelation    and   knowledsre. 


Tl 


wen',  to  hi'  sure,  the  tntelary  deities  of  IJahylon  and  tiie 
surrounding  region,  so  that  he  would  worshij)  them 
ehielly  in  any  case.  But  it  is  the  kind  of  worship  [)aid 
to  any  deit}'  that  indicates  the  character  of  the  wor- 
shipper. Now  what  is  eonspicu(Uis  in  Xehuchadrez/.ar 
is  tlu;  purity  and  self-ahandonment  of  his  adoration,  as 
contrasted  with  the  self-laudatory  grandilotjuence  of  the 
Assyrian  kings.  Indeed,  there  was  none  among  all  the 
ancient  St'mites  whose  recorded  utterances  are  so  little 
uidike  those  of  the  worshipi)ers  of  J»;hovah.      Tlu'  foUow- 


tioiiH  and  trnimlationH  by  Wincklcr  in  KB.  iii,  2,  pp.  10-71,  fonninfi  i\ 
valiialtli'  liamlliciok  of  tlic  moiiuiinMits  of  tlie  nn-at  Clialdii-aii.  Tlicrc 
Mrarly  all  tlir  puliiishrd  inscriptions  aro  ^jivcn  cxci'pt  I'ofiMoii's  Inscriii- 
tioiis  liiihfil.  ilr  ]]'<iili  nn'ssii  (!}  1211  iioli').  A  loiisi  inscri)itioii  in  line 
imscrvation  lias  Itct-n  ciliiaini'd  by  ilif  I't'inisylvania  cxpi'diiinM.  Brief 
insoripiions,  at  least,  lie  must  have  written  al)ont  other  matters,  for  :i 
frairnient  nincli  mutilated  fells  of  an  expedition  to  l^i^ypt  in  his  thirty- 
seventli  year.  See  I'iiiches,  in  THBA.  vii,  2 It)  IT.,  and  Ticlu,  BAli,  4iJo  f. 
»  Net).  II,  12  ff. 


Cii.  1,  §  lOoo 


RELIGIOUS   MOTIVE   DOMINANT 


151 


nil,'  IS  a 


pni} 


er  to  Merodiicli  :   *■•  I^vorlastiiiiT  riih-r,  lunl  of 


all  that  is,  the  kiiis^  to  whom  thou  hast  given  a  name  well- 
pU'asing  to  thyself,  make  tlum  him^  to  prospiT  and  lead 
Inm  ujjon  a  j)lain  path.^  I  am  the  [jiinee  oUedient  to 
thee,  the  creature  of  thy  hand  ;  thou  hast  created  me  and 
hast  allotted  to  me  the  domiidon  of  the  whole  race  of 
nu'U.  According  to  thy  giacc.  <>  Lord,  which  thou  hast 
made  to  })ass  over  them  all,  let  me  love  thy  glorious  dt»- 
minion  ;  let  the  fear  of  thy  god-head  dwell  in  my  heart  : 
grant  what  seemeth  good  to  thee,  ()  thou  who  hast  created 
my  life.*"^  Such  was  the  religi(»n  of  the  ("hahhean  "ser- 
vant of  Jehovah"  (Jer.  xxv.  l'.).  Tims  were  fnllillt'il 
the  pious  hopes  of  Nahopalassar,  who  has  left  on  record* 
that  in  restoring  the  great  temple  of  Merodach  in  Baby- 
lon, he  himself  and  his  two  sons  joined  in  the  tasks  of  the; 
workmen  (cf,  ij  741)),  and  that  he  liaile  the  older  lad  carry 
mortar  to  the  walls  and  bring  offerings  of  wine  and  oil. 

§  !(»')').  In  his  patriotic  endeavours  to  l)uil(l  up  and 
strengthen  IJabylon,  the  main  motive  was  also  religious/' 
Intleed,  every  public  W(jrk  was  a  religious  j»erii>i'mance, 
More()ver,  the  temi)les  ami  the  priestly  oigani/.ation  luld 
such  practical  control  that  no  business  interest  was  un- 
touched by  them.  Hut  the  reader  should  have  a  clearer 
idea  of  tin;  city  and  the  country  which  made  a  second 
home  for  Israel  during  so  many  years.  Of  tlie  plans  for 
develo[)ing  the  country  at  large,  we  can  sj)eak  better  when 
we  come  to  dcsci'ibe  the  Ihiiirew  colony  on  the  Kcbar 
(§  liiT-  IT.  ).  'i'he  IJabylon  of  the  time,  where  some  of  the 
exiles  dwelt,  and  which  was  virtually  a  cicalion  of  the 
(ireat   King,  may  here    be  very   briclly   descril)cd. 


>  I.itcniUy,  '-tiis  name."     (rf.  §  14 lo  iint.'.) 

-  I's.  xxvii.  11.  Tho  words  for  "  iilain  "'  in  ilic  two  prayers  arc  from 
the  same  root  t\ 

•'  N.'l).  I,  (V.  ff. ;  IT.  1. 

♦  Iiisciiptioii  for  tlic  icmpU'  of  .Mcrodacli.  II.  HO  ff. 

^' Til  is  hail  tlic  rtsiilt  of  iimluf  tan'  fur  Mabyloiiia.  at  the  cxpcn.sc  of 
tilt'  iiittTi'sts  of  tlif  .subject  slates  ;  cf,  Jj  llu'J. 


r 


ill 


I 


152 


BABYLON  THE  GKKAT 


Book  X 


§  10;)<>.  The  liihlo  student  uiul  the  student  of  liistoiy 
ure  e(iujilly  moved  by  the  nunie  of  lial)yh)n.*  It  is  per- 
hai)s  our  most  familiar  tyi)e  of  falU'U  and  (U'sohite  grandeur. 
Comphite  as  is  its  present  desolation,  its  former  j^'lory 
was  '"jnally  eonspicuous.  Oriental  anti(iulty  had  nothin<( 
to  e([ual  it,  and  to  the  western  world  it  lon^'  remained  the 
ideal  of  human  ma<j;nitieence.  It  was  tlie  immemorial 
eapital  of  a  ^ivni  eonnnunity,  to  which,  above  all  other 
nations,  ancient  traditions  were  precious  and  sacri-d.  In 
it  were  jjfathered  the  treasures  of  the  literaiure,  scieniie, 
and  art  of  a  i)eople  amon^  whom  knowleilfj^e  and  skill  were 
always  api)reciated  and  always  prou^ressive.      It  was  the 


ti 


em[)(U-ium,  the  workshop,  and  tlie  un 


ksh 


livi-rsitv  of  Asia.     It 


^\ 


as  the  survivor  and  the  heir,  not  merely  of  many  <»i 


»u- 


lent  cities,  but  even  (/f  old  superseded  civilizations.  It 
was  now  ])rospi'rous  as  never  before.  TIh;  time,  too,  was 
propitio)is.  The  Semitic  world  was  enjoying'  the  blessin_o;s 
of  peace,  after  the  downfall  of  the  Assyrian  disturber  and 
the  tumults  and  strife  of  many  centuries.     The  Chalda'an 


'  Any  dt'scriptioii  of  tlic  riiiiUlican  Main  Ion  must  still  hv  very  tjciicral. 
Siiu-i'  llic  era  of  modern  ri'disi-ovciy,  tin-  native  irconls  iiavf  fiivm  us  the 
first  autlii'iitic  awounts  (see  note  to  §  lO.VI),  But  from  tin-  point  of  view 
of  the  writers,  tlic  details  are  necessarily  selective  rather  than  descriptive, 
and  valuable  information  is  to  l)e  gained  from  classical  writers,  especially 
lleroilotiiS  (I,  ITS  tT. ).  who  iiersonally  viewed  the  city  ahout  -I.V)  n.r. 
The  account  of  Ctesiivs  (in  Diodorus  Siculus)  is  somewhat  less  reliaMe. 
Very  important,  thoudi  scarcely  more  than  i)anoramic,  are  the  state- 
ments of  Berossns  (in  .Fosephus  n^'ainst  Apion,  I.  lH,  §  lOoT).  himself  a 
resident  of  Haliylon.  <'ne  of  the  liest  inoilern  descriptions  is  that  of 
Tiele  (UA(i.  pp.  441-t'>-l),  and  there  is  a  K<>od.  thouuh  loo  reserved,  dis- 
(Mission  by  IMnches,  in  I',M.,  art,  '•  llabylon."  with  a  plan.  In  both  of 
these  essays  the  oiiservalions  of  the  modern  travellers — |{ich.  Taylor, 
Ainsworih.  l.oftus,  Uawlinsoii,  I,ayard,  and  others  —  have  been  taken 
into  account.  Dr.  1>.  W.  Mctiee.  lecturer  in  rniver>ily  ('ol!i'f;e,  Toronto 
(drowned  in  IHilo  at  the  aixe  of  twcniy-ihree),  had  nearly  completed  a 
treatise,  Ziir  Tojxnjrojihiv  liiili;ih>HH  <nif  tirniKl  drr  Crk'uinlrii  .Xiilmim- 
liissiirs  uiiil  Xrliid'iiilrrzin's,  which  is  now  in  course  nf  publication  in  Il.\., 
edited  liy  Professor  Delitzsch.  'I"he  pn-seiit  excavations  by  the  (ieiinaii 
expedition  under  Koldewey  prouiiHc  tu  clear  up  many  unsolved  ditlicul- 
tles  of  Uie  gravest  kind. 


jr^ 


Cii.  I,  §  1057 


THE   CITY   UKXKWKl) 


\.\1 


lirinc'fs  liad  l)r(Mit,'lit  l)iil)yloiii;i  to  its  (»\vii  apiiu.  With 
tlu.'  ins[>irati(>n  of  a  swift  and  s[)U'ii(li(l  acti^ss  of  fiTi'doJii 
and  power,  tliev  were  eaji^cr  to  reiiair  the  foniier  (h-vas- 
tations  ( §  740,  T8-'>),  and  make  thi'  rcsurij^ent  caitital  tht* 
eentre  of  the  woild.  And  stronj^'er  than  mere  political 
motives  in  the  new  kint,^ly  line  was  a  holy  jealousy  for 
the  name  and  dominion  of  Merodach  ami  Neho.  Rival 
deities  must  ahdieate  their  thrones  in  the  many-templed 
cities  of  liahylonia  for  the  ,i,frci'.ter  j,dory  of  the  j^ods  of 
Babylon.  What  was  their  loss  was  the  _t,'ain  of  Mer(»dach 
and  Neho  and  of  the  city  of  their  love  and  choice.  Mero- 
dach, imleed,  had  always  hecn  u^rcater  than  any  siiijijle 
name  could  exi)ress.  As  i)atron  of  Uahylon  tlu;  tjfreat,  In; 
was  invested  with  the  attrii)Ut<'s  of  the  old  iJahyloniaii 
iJcl.  Thus  Hel,  once  worship[ted  at  Nippur,  the  m<»st 
ancient  centre  of  the  Semitic  relit,non,  was  now  resident 
in  the  seat  of  the  world's  empire  as  l»;'l-Mei-odach.' 
'I'hus  it  was  that  in  the  phrase  (»f  a  Ilehrcw  pr(»phct 
( Isa.  xiii.  10)  Hahylon  bei-ame  "thej^lory  of  kim^iloms, 
the  proud  adormni'iit  of  Chalda'a." 

§  1()">7.  SpcakiuLf  of  Nclmchadrez/ar  IJerossiis  says  : 
"lie  adorned  the  temple  of  |»elus  and  the  other  temples 
in  an  <-lc<^raut  manner  out  of  the  spoils  he  had,  taken  in 
this  war."'^  lie  also  rehuill  the;  old  cityand  added  another 
to  it  on  the  outside,  and  so  far  resliU'ed  llahvlon  that 
none  who  miyhl  hesifnc  it  after  that  time  should  he 
ahle  to  divert  the  river,  so  as  to  lunke  ah  easier  entrance 
And   this  he   effected    hv   huildini'   thri'e 


into  the  cit\' 


.'la 


1  ».  :  I 


\\ 


alls  al)out  the  inner  litv  and  three  ahout    the  outer 


•  Cf.  .Jt'ii!*.ii.  h'<-si,inh.>ti<,  \,\<.  \:\\.  :'.ii7  ;  .Ia>iro\v.  \iH.\.  p.  :.»  r..  1 1',  tf. 
Tlif  i(i)-niiti<  Mlion  nt  Iti'l  ami  M(  i-'hIiiIi  was  a«  n|i|  as  tin-  )x>ljiic'al  sii|>i<  iii- 
acy  of  Italiyl'iii  uiuh  i  ('liaiiiiimnilii  (ii  117);  luit  tlir  alisiir|iti<iii  uf  |{«'l 
by  MiTudiicl!,  Willi  a  fomplttc  iiitt'ivliaimr  <if  names,  in  cliaractfiisii-'  of 
till  ('liiiMip.in  •  I'ii.  'I'll)-  iiiiiirfi't  <  tli-ci  upon  Israel  of  ilils  lii-preciatioii 
of  Ni|(ptir  aii'l  it»  "  IKl  "  will  In-  pojntcil  out  Ijitcr  .  ^  I'JSi")  f. ). 

-  Tlmt  in.  till'  early  rjiiiipaiirii  in  tiie  West,  inieirupitd  liy  his  fatliei  h 
dmfli.  wltieli  llernHHUx  (or  •FtmepUiui,  eoiuljines  ill  one  desttipiiuii  witii  llie 
ktUrt  tipei'iUkins  in  the  WchI. 


n 


r  if 


9 


.( 


ir.j 


Tin-:   CITV   AXl)   ITS   WALLS 


Book   X 


Avlic'ii  he  liiid  fortiliod  the  city  witli  walls  and  adorned  the 
^fates  niaj^niliceiitly,  he  adtled  a  new  pahue  to  that  which 
Ids  father  had  dwelt  in,  close  by  it  also,  hut  loftier  an<l 
more  splendid.  .  .  .  Iniinense  and  niai^niificent  ilioiiirh  it 
was,  it  was  linished  in  iiftecn  days.  In  this  palace  he 
erected  very  luLfh  promenades  supiiorted  on  stone  pillars  : 
and  Ity  plantin*^  what  was  called  a  hanLjini,'  <;arden.  and 
ri'plenishinj^  it  with  all  sorts  of  trees,  he  made  it  rcs«Mnl»le 
exactly  the  scenery  of  a  mountainous  country.  This  he 
did  to  i)lease  his  (pieen,  because!  she  had  been  brouji^ht  up 
in  Media,  and  was  fond  of  mountainous  surnnindini^s." 

§  10')8.  The  above  may  serve  as  a  vaj^ue  outline  to 
which  some  deliniti-ness  may  be  ^iven  by  details  fn»m  other 
sources.  First,  as  to  the  pfcni'ral  situation  of  the  <"it\'. 
It  lay  mainly  on  the  east  or  left  bank  of  the  Euphrates, 
the  most  thickly  settled  portion  occupyinjjf  a  space  of 
about  four  miles  across  from  north  to  south  within  the 
irregularly  bending  course  of  tlie  river,  which  turns  south- 
west, south,  and  east,  and  then  runs  due  south  for  live 
miles,  the  modern  village  of  llillah  being  three  miles  south 
of  the  easterly  bend.  The  features  of  most  interest  and 
importance  were  the  walls,  the  canals,  the  temples,  and  tlie 
palace.  The  outer  wall  was  of  enormous  extent.  Ac<ord- 
ing  to  Herodotus,  the  city  was  4.S()  stadia  or  '>')  miles  in 
<  ircund'creiicc,  and  this  wall  SO  feet  wid»'.  Alonirside 
of  it  ran  a  moat  so  broad  that  no  arrow  coidd  be  shot  over 
it.^  Above  its  wide  summit  stood  dwellings  of  olVicials, 
and  between  them  lay  a  stre«!t  where  chariots  might  run. 
This  wall,  said  to  Ik*  mountain-higli.  was  the  greatest  struc- 
ture known  to  anti(|Mity.  It  was  the  work  of  Nebuchad- 
rez/ar  and  his  men,  devised  to  make  the  defences  <»f  the 
city  doubly  sure.  It  was  pier«ed  with  "n  hundfe(l"  gates 
of  bronze.  This  was.  h-'wever,  not  the  outermost  obst.i.  le 
to  a  possible  iuvtider.    Eastward  still  was  dug  an  immt use 


'  Thom  won*  enclosiiif;  walls  for  this  imiat,  which  may  explain  thi- 
n'liorieil  statfiiiciit  of  Hcnissus,  ijuuted  above,  that  there  wtre  three 
walU  aruuiid  tlie  outer  city. 


f'li.  I,  §  1000 


THE  CITY   I'UOl'KU 


155 


iutilicial  lake  supplied  by  an  overlluw  of  llie  Kiiphrates 
and  by  diverted  alllueiits  of  euiials.  Four  thousand 
('ul)it.s  iu>vard  from  the  outer  wall  stretched  the  rampart 
Ki'inifti-Iirl  (^'"'Vhii  station  of  IJel")  and  the  inner  wall 
Ii)ii/ur-Jii'l  ('•  15el  is  propitious"').*  This  iunutsnse  inter- 
veuint^  s[>aee  was  oe('Ui)ied  with  fruit  and  ve<fetal)le  jjfar- 
di'us,  ^rovt's,  suburban  n^sidenees,  l)rielv-kilns  and  other 
faetorit!S.  The  rampart  and  the  inner  wall  had  been  begun 
by  Nabopalassar  and  were  now  (inished  by  Nel)uehadre/- 
zar.  The  numerous  gales  in  both  of  these  walls  leading 
to  the  city  proper  were  iidaid  with  bronze  and  splendidly 
ornamented.  IJetween  Nemitti-IJel  and  Imgur-lif'l  lay  a 
moat,  itself  enclosed  with  walls  of  no  mean  altitude,  and 
having  its  slopes  eomi)letely  bricked. 

§  10;V.>.  In  the  city  itself  the  numerous  streets  ran  at 
right  angles  to  one  another,  as  in  the  most  modern  of  our 
own  towns.  At  the  ends  of  certain  princii)al  stn>ets  the 
moat  was  bridged  over,  and  bridges  also  spanned  the  chief 
canal  east  of  the  Kui>hrates,  which  ran  from  north  to 
south  through  the  city.  On  both  banks  of  the  Euphrates 
long  lines  of  (juays  received  the  merchandise  of  the 
world,  and  the  river  between  was  throngt'<l  with  boats 
and  barges  of  every  description  known  to  iidand  naviga- 
tion (cf.  §  !:}()')).  The  Ku])hrates  formed  the  main 
westcrii  defence  of  the  city  proper,  but  doubtless  the 
smaller  city  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river  had  its  own 
syslt'in  of  fort ilicat ion. '-^ 

5^  1<M)().  A  colossid  tcmpli'  and  the  royal  palace  crowned 
the  work  of  til''  (ircat  King  within  the  walls.  The  great 
temple,   known    in   the  arliiicial    i)riestly   terminology  as 


Ji 


'  Hcsiilis  Ncliucliiuiii  z/.ar's  nwn  insciipiioiis,  sec  IT  U.  ")(>.  '.'O.  "Jl.  <i.  h. 
It  was  ill  IJiiliN  liiiiiiiii  siiiTtmiulinirs  thai  u  llfbrcvv  i)rnplii'i  sjiitl  ni  ilio 
iiical  n'stiirt'd  .IiTusalcin,  "  Th.ou  shall  call  its  walls  •Salvation,'  ami  ita 
grates  •  I'raisc'"  (Isa.  Ix.  1S). 

'^  III  lilt'  tiiiic  (it  llfi'odotiis  tluTc  was  a  eonsidcrabli'  jinitioii  of  tlif  lity 
on  tlu'  west  of  till'  riviT  (I.  lS(t).  lltTossiis  (.losfplms  against  Ajiion,  i, 
2i>)  sci'iiis  to  imply  that  new  wails  were  erected  in  the  reign  of  Nahouidus. 
Hut  the  inscriptions  of  Naboiiidns  say  nothing  of  this. 


I. 

<K,'I 


n 


i'!  ,i 


m 


•  if; 


m 


^»p 


150 


TKMl'LE   AND  TOWKU 


Book  X 


Entiifila  ("the  lofty  liotise"),*  was  a  very  aiu'UMit  struc- 
tmt!  ami  it  was  tla;  i>ri(lo  of  all  the  kiufjfs  of  IJabylon  to 
k(M'[)  it  ill  repair  and  heaiitify  it.  This  temple  and  the 
shrines  of  whiith  it  was  eoinposed  he  adorned  with  lavish 
},'enerosity  and  unrivalled  ele^anee  and  splendour.  The 
tenii)le  proper  resendded  in  arrangement  and  functions 
the  temple  in  Jerusalem.^  hut  some  of  the  features  which 
were  distinctly  IJahylonian  were  also  of  great  imj)ortanee 
for  the  history  of  Oriental  religion.  We  can  only  remark 
here  the  threefohl  division  <»f  a  vestibule,  a  long  inner 
court,  and  a  most  ludy  place  or  oracle,  entered  every  New 
Year's  day  (the  (irst  of  Nisan)  to  know  the  will  of  Mero- 
daeh.  Of  the  appliances  of  the  temi»le  we  note  j>articu- 
larly  the  chief  altar  in  front,  two  large  columns  at  the 
entrance  to  the  court,'*  a  large  basin  or  "sea"  {(I/ihi'i'),  and 
a  ship,  adorned  with  precious  stones,  in  which  Marduk 
was  carritid  in  festal  procession.'* 

§  10(11.  Most  characteristic  of  the  chief  Habylonian 
temples  was  a  four-sided  building  called  a  zikkftrnt  ("high 
tower"),  which  was  separate  from  the  main  structure, 
though  an  essential  part  of  the  whole  sanctuary.  It  was 
at  IJabylon  and  IJorsij)pa  of  seven  stages  corresponding  to 
the  seven  jjlanets  :  Sun,  Moon,  Mercury,  Venus,  Mars, 
Ju[»iter,  Saturn.  Originally,  however,  it  was  merely  an 
erection  of  indelinite  height  u[)on  a  mound  or  terrace  — 
the  "high  |)lace"  (»f  primitive  worship.  While  in  Israel 
and  elsewlu're  the  tem[)le  was  a  developnu'ut  of  the  high 
place  and  its  shrine,  in   IJabylonia,  with  its  com[)lex  sys- 

'  Assyr   hit  rift  (§  117). 

-  S»'('  the  suiiiiiiiiry  of  tlie  parts  in  Tit'lo,  RAG.  p.  414,  .iiul,  for  tlio 
wlidlc  siiliji'it  iif  Ualiylniiiiiii  ttinplfs.  Jastrow,  H15A.  p.  (il'2  tT. 

•'  Foiiiul  at  Nippur  ami  Laj;a.sli,  ami  (l(uil)tlfs.s  a  fcatnic  of  Ilabylnnian 
U'liipii's  fit'iu-rally,  appanntiy  a  survival  of  a  ttatcway.    St-c  ]l\\.\.  p.  tii'.'i  f. 

••  Tliis  wa.s  a  prouiiucut  feature  of  the  !{al)yiniiian  cult.  Kaeli  ltoiI  iiad 
Ills  own  vessel,  wiili'li  hail  a  special  name  ;;iven  to  it.  Tiie  custom  was  a 
survival  from  Jk!  times  wlien  the  ciiief  cities  lay  ou  the  I'ersian  (iulf. 
See  KU.V.  p.  tl-')4  f.  May  it  not  also  syruholize  tho  belief  tiuit  the  ocean 
\va.s  the  ultimate  source  of  the  divine  beings  ? 


Cii.  I,  §  l(»<i2 


TKMl'LE   A  UK  A   AND   PA  LACK 


tt'in  of  worshii),  this  storicMl  towor  was  tlu'  direct  I'volu- 
tion  of  llu!  liigli  i)lat'e  itst'if,  tlu;  otluT  stnictuit's  bciiii^ 
(levelo[)(Ml  from  the  shrine  and  its  l»eh>n^nnLfs.  'I'his 
tower  of  gradually  narrowed  sta_i,'es  was  the  most  ijnjtos- 
ing  single  feature  of  the  whole  sacred  estal)lislnuent.*  To 
relieve  its  monotony  enamelhMl  hriiks  of  i;or<'e(»ns  colours 
were  employed  for  many,  at  least,  of  tlu-  rows.  This  lofty 
structure  had  also  numerous  shrines  attached  to  it,  and 
the  space  betwi'cn  it  and  tlu;  temple  propi'r  was  the  gath- 
ering place  of  votaries,  where  stood  the  chief  altars,  ami 
where  olTi'rings  were  presented.  Perhaps  in  the  same  re- 
gion ucri'  the  tables  of  the  money-changers,  with  their 
constant  noisy  trallic.  Within  the  sacred  precincts  were 
also  many  chand>ers  and  separate  buildings  in  which  was 
transacted  the  business,  sacred  and  secular,  of  thc^  vast 
institution  (cf.  i^  1287).  The  whole  tcm|ilc  aica  was 
enclosed  by  a  wall,  wli'.cii  thus,  in  Habylonia  at  least, 
cmbrace(l  a  city  within  a  city. 

§  1<M!2.  To  match  the  grandeur  of  the  city  and  temple 
of  Mcrodach,  and  to  further  protect  Imgur-|{cl,  the  king 
erected  a  new  i)aha'e  alongsidi;  of  Ncmitti-IJcl  and 
between  the  two  walls,  probably  to  tiie  north  of  the  tem- 
ple area.  A  terrace  cd"  VM)  cubits  in  length  was  preparc(l, 
and  in  iiftcen  days  the  actual  building  of  the  palace  was 
comi)leied.*''     It  was  protected  by  a  ilouble  wall  of  l»ri(U 


'  At  Moi'sippa  (§  lati.')).  wlirrc  llif  ruins  art'  Ixst  i-rfscrveil.  Sir  lli'iirv 
KawliiisDii  ri'ckiiiifii  its  liciulit  at  1 10  Itrl,  tin-  lirsi  sta.^c  hciiii;  'I'l'l  iVtt 
siiiinrc  juiil  lln'  .si'Vtiith  'JO  IVct.  In  most  riiiiictl  I'itii's  tlic  ninaiiis  nf  ilnsc 
siriictiircs  an-  tlic  most  iiriiiiiiiiciit  oliji-ct.  'I'Ih-  luiimi-  icmpiis  liail  im 
siu'li  sturifd  towers,  siiict'  racli  of  tlicsc  oritiinaliy  iiiarkftl  the  sitr  of  a 
Ki|iaratt'  city,  the  fcimuiinirof  wliicli  wasaii  act  of  \vnrslii]i  ( ji  \W).  ( tji  (lie 
hyiiiiiolical  idea  of  tiic  strin'iiirc,  see  h'iism"lii<iir.  \i.'2')^>;  l!MA.  \i.  til  J  If. 

'■'  Tills  is  tlie  statciiuiit  of  the  kiii^'  himself  (Neh.  VIII.  OJ  f, )  :  ••  In  lif. 
teen  (lays  I  eoiiiiileted  its  cniisfniclioii."'  Thiis  the  ai-coimt  of  jJcrosMis 
(S  liloT)  is  coiitirined.  The  .site  of  this  iimst  renowned  of  anc  iint  jial- 
aoes,  where  Xolmehiidrezzar  lived,  where  Cyrus  held  eourt,  and  where 
Alexander  died,  is  jienerally  held  to  he  c/  h'usr,  "  the  palaee,"  the  eentral 
iMound  of  thi!  city  proper  (cf.  Her.  I,  iSlj,     (See  the  plan  in  KB.  or  in 


: 


i 


-e 


ir,H 


HAHYLON   AND    IKHISII'I'A 


Book    \ 


and  stoiu'.  Tin;  j^nitt's  wvia  iiilaul  with  hidiizf,  Ixtnleiud 
with  <f^iM  and  silver,  and  inhiid  with  jtrecioiis  stnncs. 
This  i)ula('(^  ho  then  Cdnni'ctiMl  with  thi;  ohl  pahuu'  of  his 
I'athtT.  What  ho  himself  thun^dit  of  tho  struftiire  we 
learn  from  his  own  words:  "That  house  I  made  an  <»hjeet 
of  admiration  to  be  ^M/ed  at  hy  all  mankind.  I  decorated 
it  splendidly'.  With  a  prodigality  of  strenjfth  and  with 
the  aw(!  (»f  my  majesty  its  walls  are  eoni[iassed  round. 
No  evil  or  nnri<,diteons  man  doth  enter  it.  'Ihe  attack  of 
the  hostih;  and  the  unsubmissive'  1  iiav(^  kept  far  from 
the  sides  of  the  citadel  of  Mabylon.  The  city  of  llabylon 
I  have  mad(!  as  strong;  as  a  wooded  mountain.""* 

§  10<!;{.  A  word  must  be  said  of  the  nei<^hbourin^  city 
of  Ihtrsippa,  to  the  south,  but  on  the  western  side  of  tho 
Kuphrates.  This  was  not,  as  was  formerly  thouj^ht,  en- 
closed within  the  outer  wall  of  Habylon,  from  which  its 
own  outer  wall  must  have  lain  at  least  four  miles  distant. 
Its  sacredness  to  Nebuchadrezzar  was  duo  to  its  being  tho 
projjer  seat  of  Nebo,  who  shared  with  Mero«lach,  from  tho 
remotest  times,  tho  divine  sovereignty  and  protectorate 
of  the  distiict  of  iJabylon  or  Habylonia  proper.  Its  tem- 
ple town  Eziiht  ("tho  I'lidnring  house ")^  we  have  already 
spoken  of  ( §  I0(il,  note).  The  king  restored  tho  de- 
cayed temple  of  Nebo  and  his  consort  Nana,  renewing 
also  the  temple  tower  with  great  niagniticonco  and  maj- 
esty. This  famous  structure,  "the  house  of  the  seven 
lights  of  heaven  and  earth  "  (the  jilanets,  §  KXIl),  can 
hardly  have  been  tho  "tower  of  llabel"  ((Jen.  xi.).  This 
phrase  seems  to  be  a  generalized  expression  for  a  great 
city  foundation,  of  which  "Mabel"  was  the  typo.  Tho 
tttwer  of  Habylon  itself  (  AW/j7</,  "the  lofty  house"), 
which  was  probably,  at  least,  as  largo  as  that  of  Horsippa,* 


•  U'l  hilhil  pilnl,  "  who  does  not  present  the  face,"  i.e.  rt-fuses  to  appear 
bcfiin-  tlic  kin^  and  do  homa;'e. 

••'  Net).  VIII.  ii!M4.  "  Awsyr.  hit  khiu  (§  117). 

*  Tilt'  "tiiwer  "  of  Sai'fion  at  Kliorsabad  (§  (MIT)  was  of  alwiiil  tlio  saujo 
elevation  as  tliat  of  Uonsippa.     The  identification  of  Uorsippu  with  the 


f 


Cm.  I.  §  HVt4      TIIK    I.IKK   «»F  (MTV   AND    I'Kol'hK 


i:.i) 


is  iiKiri;  iiiitiinilly  to  Ik;  iiMiUM'stMoil.  Iiui'si|i|)ii  was  also 
Htron^ly  fortilii'd,  tliu  Uinta's  t'oiict'ni  for  it  beiii^'  sc;aic»'ly 
less  than  that  wliich  hu  IVlt  for  ISal)yh)ii. 

§  1(H14.  '!'<»  j^ut  a  more  a(h't|uati;  ('oMci'ptioM  of  HabvhMi 
as  the  llt'hrcw  i'xiU's  saw  it,  \\r  must  think  of  thi;  mani- 
fohl  occnpations  and  cmphtymtMits  carrii'd  on  in  thr  rity. 
Wo  must  imaj,dne  tho  warrh(»ust's  lilli'd  with  th«'  products 
of  Kuropi',  Asia,  and  Afriia.  W'v  must  picturt'  to  our- 
selves the  manufactories  hir<^e  and  small,  each  hranch  of 
industry  bein<^  assi^nied  to  its  own  (juarter  or  (piarters  of 
the  (!ity.  Wo  must  visit  in  fancy  the  sho[)s  where  "j^oodly 
Hahylonish  f;arments  "  and  rich  eari)etini^s  were  olVcrcd 
for  sale,  where  the  liiu'st  work  of  tlie  |K»tter  was  tiisplayed, 
where  precious  unj^uents  and  perfumes  were  to  he  had, 
where  countless  articles  of  bronze,  of  silver,  of  ^'old,  and 
of  all  sorts  of  preeioiis  stones,  were  enticin^'ly  set  fiu'tli. 
Wo  must  observe  what  a  lunnber  and  variety  of  <lay 
cylinders  and  tablets  were  made  and  sold,  and  realize  that 
wo  have  before  us  the  panoranui  of  an  Oriental  Athens 
and  Komo  in  one  —  a  plaeo  of  knowled^'e  and  inquiry; 
of  uiuversal  reading;  and  writing;  of  innnense  monetary 
and  property  interests;  of  system,  law,  and  eom[)lex  ad- 
ministration. Wo  nnist  have  before  our  mind's  eye  the 
men  of  the  city,  with  their  lonj^  linen  tunics  reachin<( 
to  the  feet,  tiieir  woollen  mantles,  and  the  short  whitt; 
eape  over  all;  their  thick-soled  sandals,  their  loni,'  hair 
bound  up  into  iillots,  and  their  delicate  perfumes;  every 
one  of  them  with  a  stall'  in  his  hand  carved  with  an  apple, 
a  rose,  a  lily,  an  ea^le,  or  some  other  fanciful  <h'vii.e.* 
Finally,  to  understand  what  manner  of  men  the  Haby- 
lonians  were  we  nmst  resort  to  their  tem[)les,  and  see 
how  much  of  their  life  was  attached  tu  and  mouldeil  by 
the  wtu'ship  of  their  ^(»ds. 

faiiiDim  t()W(!r  of  Ofnenm  liaH  bocii  fnviniroii  by  tlie  iinwrvatinn  of  its 
Kij,Miilic  luiiis.     But,  lUMonlinn  t<>  IhTiuloius  (I,  ISI),  tlic  tnwer  of  Maby- 
luii  wnH  ()iu>  Ktatliiiiu  Hquare  ut  tlie  btwu,  Unit  Ih,  about  8ix  liuiulred  fti-t. 
»  See  Her.  I,  lUo. 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

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CHAPTER    II 


SILENCES  OF  PROPHECY   TILL   THE   CHALD^EAX   EPOCH 


III 

Ml 


Vl'l 


§  1005.  Prophetic  disciples  Avere  active  during  the 
reign  of  Manasseh  and  tlie  Deuterononiic  time  (§  U42), 
hnt  prophecy  did  not  cry  ak)ud.  It  may  liave  been  stitied 
in  the  attempt  in  the  former  period.  But  why  did  it  not 
lind  a  voice  during  the  hitter 'M  Was  it  because  it  was 
making  itself  felt  in  legislation  ?  Not  exactly  ;  for  in 
Deuteronomy  it  was  resounding  in  echoes  and  vibra- 
tions rather  than  in  its  own  fresh,  spontaneous  utterance 
(cf.  §  'J43,  1012).  Inter  ler/es  silent  prophetce.  One  figure, 
greater  than  Josiah  or  llilkiah  or  any  other  contemporary, 
is  missing  from  the  picture  drawn  for  us  of  the  episode  of 
Deuteronomy  and  the  reformation  (§  840  ff.).  Jeremiah, 
the  most  spiritual  of  the  prophets,  and  personally  the 
most  interesting,  had  begun  his  prophetic  career  in  020  B.C. 
(.fer.  i.  1),  live  years  before  the  finding  of  the  "book  of 
direction."  Why  did  neither  he  nor  Zephaniah  nor  Hal  • 
akkuk  take  part  either  iu  the  promulgation  ^  of  the  "  law  " 
or  iu  the  direction  of  religious  affairs  generary  during 
the  life  of  Josiah  ?  The  fact  itself  is  startling.  The 
great  prophets  of  the  Old  Testament  fdl  the  whole  stage 

1  Zephaniah  (§  8;lO)  probably  delivered  his  brief  prophecy  bef Jvc 
()21  it.c.  Naluun  (§  8.'51  ff.)  conliiied  himself  almost  entirely  to  Nineveh. 
Jeremiah's  work  under  Josiah  will  be  considered  later  (§  i»:i2  ff.). 

■^  It  is  usually  suppo.sed  that  in  Jer.  xi.  1-8  the  prophet  is  charged  '•  to 
make  an  itinerating  mission  in  Judah  for  the  purpose  of  setting  forth 
the  prineiples  of  Deuteronomy  and  exhorting  men  to  live  accordingly  " 
(Driver,  Iiitr.^  p.  255  ;  cf.  Cheyne,  Jeremiah,  his  Life  and  Times,  p.  50). 
Such  a  commission,  however,  was  out  of  harmony  with  the  vocation  of 
Jeremiah  (§  100(5  f.).    The  true  explanation  is  given  in  §  1100. 

100 


I' 


Ch.  II,  §  1066        THE   INDEPENDENT  PROPHET 


101 


of  its  action  with  their  .substance  or  their  shadow,  and  we 
naturally  associate  tiieni  with  all  that  was  monumental  in 
church  or  state.  The  subject  has  been  glanced  at  already. 
We  have  said  that  they  were  not  professionals  (§  851), 
and  that  they  were  idealists  rather  than  practical  men 
(§  943).  IJut  the  case  demands  somewhat  fuller  notice. 
§  lOGG.  As  to  the  more  olhcial  character  of  the  work 
of  the  prophets,  we  may  observe  :  (1)  Tiiey  were  licensed 
to  preach  and  ordained  to  the  ministry  by  Jehovah  alone, 
and  their  divine  investiture  placed  them  not  only  above 
but  outside  of  the  prophets  of  the  otUcial  or  hereditary 
class.  ^Moreover,  just  in  proportion  as  the  teaching  of 
the  prophets  concerning  Jehovah  and  his  claims  upon  his 
people  became  purer,  the  prophetic  office  was  more  widely 
separated  from  officialdom  of  any  sort,  from  association 
with  any  class  or  order  of  men.  (2)  Hence  the  true 
prophet  was  an  immediate,  original  f(n-ce,  unfettered  by 
personal  entanglements.  An  official  position  of  any  kind 
would  detract  from  the  moral  influence  of  the  prophetic 
word.  A  professional  prophet  might  be  susjjected  of 
ulterior  motives  in  delivering  his  message,  especially  in 
a  community  where  divining  and  soothsaying  were  in- 
digenous customs.  An  independent  proi)het  of  Jehovah 
might  perhaps  be  thought  fanatical  or  falliljle,  but  he 
could  never  be  fairly  regarded  as  designing  or  mercenary, 
as  an  intriguer  or  a  conspirator.  (3)  Similarly,  the  word 
of  the  true  prophets,  unlike  that  of  the  professionals,  had 
no  external  validity  or  authority.  It  claimed  simply  to 
be  the  Avord  of  Jehovah.  Its  speakers  were  neither  the 
slaves  nor  the  agents  of  a  king  or  a  court  or  a  hierarchy. 
The  age  of  Deuteronomy  and  the  succeeding  time  shows 
clearly  the  distinction,  from  this  point  of  view,  between 
them  and  the  prophetic  guilds.  The  i)ro[)liets  generally 
Jippear  as  closely  connected  with  the  priests,  and,  indeed, 
in  some  cases,  subject  to  them  (Jer.xx.   2;  xxix.   20)*; 

1  Cf.  W.  R.  Smith,  Prophets,  pp.  85,  ;J8i). 


3? 


It 


I    f!;i 


m 


I 


162 


JEREMIAH   AND  THE   REFORM 


Book  X 


and  the  subserviency  of  Lotli  alike  to  the  ruling  forces  in 
the  state  is  notorious.^  The  ministry  of  the  independent 
prophets  was  as  much  a  j^rotest  against  professional  ser- 
vility as  it  was  against  the  tyranny  of  tradition  and 
custom.  Compulsion  was  alien  to  them,  and  persuasion 
was  their  chief  resource. 

§  1007.  We  see  accordingly  how  such  a  man  as  Jeremiah 
stood  aloof  from  the  enforcement  of  the  practical  enact- 
ments of  Deuteronomy.  He  could  not  identify  himself  with 
the  violent  measures  of  repression,  for  that  would  have 
prejudiced  him  with  the  people  who  were,  as  far  as  his 
agency  was  concerned,  to  be  won  over  by  the  genial  meth- 
ods of  moral  inducement.  His  commission  to  proclaim  far 
and  Avide  the  penalties  of  the  violation  of  the  moral  law 
(§  1100)  makes  him  a  typical  prophetic  figure,  standing 
out  in  relief  from  the  scenes  of  image-breaking  and  evic- 
tion and  scourging  and  imprisonment  that  marked  the 
practical  operation  of  the  law  of  Deuteronomy.  What  an 
interval  separates  Samuel  (1  Sam.  xv.  2G  f.)  or  Elijah 
(1  K.  xviii.  40)  fnmi  Jeremiah  !  The  one  executes  olfi- 
cial  punishment,  the  other  does  not  even  announce  it. 

§  1008.  Something  similar  may  be  said  of  his  lack  of 
interest  in  the  other  great  feature  of  the  Deuterono- 
mic  movement  —  the  reformation  of  ceremonial  worship. 
What  distinguishes  him  here  is  his  noble  disdain  of  ritual 
or  ceremony  as  a  spiritual  or  even  as  a  religious  func- 
tion. This  is  characteristic  of  the  true  prophet  every- 
where. IJut  Jeremiah  stands  in  the  very  midst  of  the 
idolatry  (ch.  vii.  10  If.,  31)  which  it  is  the  aim  of  Deuter- 
onomy to  su[)phuit  by  a  centralized  and  more  rigorous 
ceremonial,  and  tells  the  worshippers  that  God  does  not 
care  for  sacrifice  at  all  (vii.  22  f. ;  cf.  §  101>4). 

§  1009.   Something   more   startling   still   confronts  us. 


1  A  pood  instance  is  afforded  in  tlie  history  of  Jeremiah  himself.  His 
fellow-townsmen  of  the  priestly  village  of  Anathoth,  who  doubtless  had 
acted  under  Josiah  in  harmony  with  the  Reformation,  actually  attempted 
to  put  him  to  death  under  Josiah's  successor  (Jer.  xi.  21). 


wm 


w 


^mm 


IS' 

I 


Oh.  II,  §  107 


JEREMIAH  AND  JOSIAH 


168 


s. 

lis 
ad 
ed 


Not  only  did  Jeremiah  stand  aloof  from  the  enforcement 
of  Josiah's  reforms  ;  he  seems  to  have  had  no  official 
dealings  with  him  at  all.  Yet  eighteen  years  of  his  pro- 
phetic career  had  passed  before  Josijih's  death.  It  is  true 
that  he  must  have  spent  a  part  of  his  time,  especially  in 
the  earlier  years,  in  his  native  Anathoth,  where  he  had  re- 
ceived the  call  to  the  prophetic  office,  and  with  which  he 
continued  to  have  much  to  do  throughout  life  (cf.  xi.  21  if.; 
xxxii.  7  ff.).  But  his  mission  Avas  mainly  to  Jerusalem 
(ii.  2  «?.),  and  his  message  was  such  as  to  challenge  the 
attention  of  the  highest  and  lowest  alike.  Moreover, 
Jeremiah,  in  s})ite  oi  his  diffident  sense  of  youthfulness 
(i.  6),  was  little  if  at  all  younger  than  Josiah,  and  in  view 
of  his  commanding  gifts  and  aggressive  ministry  one 
would  expect  that  he  would  hold  a  sort  of  tutelary  rela- 
tion toward  the  young  king.  What  is  perhaps  the  most 
striking  of  all  is  the  fact  that  in  the  extant  prophecies  of 
Jeremiah  there  is  not  a  single  contemporary  personal  alhi- 
siou  to  Josiah  (see  xxii.  15  ff.).  Could  Josiah  dispense 
with  liim  ?  Or,  what  is  much  the  same  thing,  did  he 
merely  tolerate  his  preaching  and  mildly  patronize  him  ? 
Either  the  one  or  the  other,  it  would  seem. 

§  1070.  Are  we  prepared  for  sucli  a  conclusion  ?  Doc* 
it  shake  our  faith  in  the  theocratic  character  of  Josiah's 
work  of  reform?  Not  necessaiUy.  (iod  fulfils  himself 
in  many  ways,  and  for  its  inunediate  purpose,  at  least,  the 
scourge  of  Josiah  and  liis  priests  was  as  necessary  as  the 
pleadings  and  remonstrances  of  Jeremiah,  and  apparently 
as  effective  within  its  proper  sphere.  And  if  the  king 
moved  in  a  lower  and  narrower  spiritual  sphere  than  that 
of  the  prophet,  we  may  assure  ourselves  that  he  could  not 
do  otherwise.  We  have  no  evick'nce  that  he  was  a  man 
after  Jeremiah's  heart,  or  was  deeply  imbued  with  the 
most  advanced  prophetic  spirit.  Was  any  Hebrew  ruler 
of  a  kindred  mind  with  the  truest  prophet  of  his  time  ? 
We  have  credited  Hezekiah  with  deference  to  the  pro- 
plietic    word    (§   797),  but   he    did   not   enter  fully  into 


;ff| 


liii 


if 


104 


PUOPHKTS  AND  OFFICIALS 


Book  X 


the  spirit  of  reform  until  his  cliiistisement  Imd  brought 
him  under  the  aseendency  of  Isaiuh.  Tlie  case  of  Josiali, 
who  woukl  seem  likely  to  be  the  most  amenable  of  all 
kings  to  direct  prophetic  influence,  shows  that  the  inde- 
pendent prophets  were  always  in  advance  of  the  best  au- 
thorities of  their  time.  The  broad  exj)lanation  is  that 
precedent  and  custom,  which  determined  the  occupation  of 
most  of  the  citizens,  ruled  also  in  affairs  of  relio-ion  and 
worship  l)y  means  of  the  professional  priests  and  prophets, 
who  had  a  powerful  moral  hold  upon  king  and  people 
alike  through  ceremonial  and  legal  prescription.  In  short, 
the  most  enlightened  and  progressive  oflicials  of  the  nation 
were  able  to  utilize  the  finest  results  of  tlic  prophetic 
teaching  of  an  earlier  era,  but  could  not  reach  out  be- 
yond them.  The  reformers  uiuler  Josiah  were  not  dis- 
coverers like  the  independent  prophets.  They  were 
inventors,  and  the  king  gave  and  secured  them  their 
patent  rights. 

§  1071.  What  we  learn  definitely  of  the  relations  of  the 
preaching  prophets  to  the  king  and  officials  generally  is 
this  :  That  the  two  spheres  lay  quite  apart  ;  that  the 
prophets  interested  themselves  in  all  parties  and  classes  iu 
the  state,  but  only  in  their  moral  and  spiritual  relations  ; 
that  their  function  wan  critical  ;  that  they  confined  them- 
selves to  reproof  and  admonition  and  did  n(jt  take  part  in 
theories  or  measures  of  practical  reform.  Hence  while 
they  did  not  inveigh  directly  against  evil  kings,  they  did 
not  enter  into  formal  relations  with  those  of  the  better 
sort.  They  even  exercised  their  oracular  functions  but 
little,  and,  to  do  the  later  kings  justice,  they  troubled 
even  the  ^•reatest  of  the  prophets  very  seldom  by  asking 
their  counsel,  except  in  circumstances  of  extreme  national 
peril.  Even  Josiah,  therefore,  had  little  public  association 
with  Jeremiah,  and  of  private  frieiulship  between  these 
two  illustrious  Israelites  we  have  no  information. 

§  1072.  There  was  one  a|)parent  exception  to  the  gen- 
eral fact  that  prophecy  did  not  concern  itself  with  spe- 


■tp 


:  b.-i 
»  I'l: 


cii.  II,  §  1073     tup:  ruoi'iiKis  and  politics 


Kio 


citic  public  measures.  Prophecy  took  for  a  special  prov- 
ince the  international  relations  of  Israel.  This,  however, 
is  just  in  accordance  with  its  fundamental  character  as 
shown  in  its  historical  development  (^e.g.  §  205  ft'.,  723  ft".). 
And  the  active  interest  of  the  prophets  in  international 
matters  was  promoted  by  the  fact  that  as  far  as  moral  influ- 
ence was  concerned  they  here  had  the  field  to  themselvcH. 
While  reform  in  worship  or  ritual,  or  even  in  outward 
manners,  was  under  the  direction  of  the  priests  and  the 
rulers  of  the  people,  with  the  king  at  their  head,  in  the 
region  of  foreign  adventure  these  national  guides  were 
all  at  sea,  and  especially  incompetent  to  estimate  its 
moral  and  religious  dangers.  This  wider  region  of 
statesmanship  accordingly  fell  to  the  prophets. 

§  1073.  What  the  prophet  Isaiah  dared  and  achieved 
in  this  preeminent  region  forms  one  of  the  most  inspiring, 
and  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most  fruitful,  themes  of 
Old  Testament  history.  It  might  be  supposed  that  there 
was  also  room  and  occasion  for  prophetic  intervention  and 
counsel  in  the  difficult  and  tragic  situation  which  arose 
toward  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Josiah  Did  the  tolerance 
of  the  prophets  extend  to  this  critical  point  ?  Perhai)s 
the  most  surprising  of  all  the  biblical  silences  of  this  time 
is  the  absence  of  allusion,  direct  or  indirect,  to  the  pro- 
phetic attitude  toAvard  the  policy  of  the  court  part\%  and 
especially  toward  Josiah's  ill-fated  campaign  against  Pha- 
raoh Necho.  Did  Josiah  consult  the  prophets  at  all? 
What  counsel  did  they  give  him  ?  We  can  hardly  con- 
ceive of  Jeremiah  encouraging  such  aggressive  warfare. 
Where  was  he  at  this  crisis?  Where  were  Nahum 
and  Zephaniah  and  Habakkuk  ?  Or  did  Josiah  resort 
to  the  priests  for  an  oracle?  We  have  perhaps  a  hint 
from  a  distant  source.  The  beautiful  Twentieth  Psalm 
was  possibly  composed  on  this  occasion.  It  certainly 
was  not  the  product  of  a  later  time,  for  after  Josiah 
no  king  reigned  in  Israel  who  had  tlie  divine  approval. 
This  hymn  of  sacrifice  on  the  eve  of  a  campaign  may  very 


;■,  I" 


^0! 


I 


l-  'I 


B 


1 


w 

160 


PROPHETS  OF  THE   PERIOD 


Book  X 


'1';'!! 


1 

1 
i 

i 

1 

well  have  been  composed  just  before  the  battle  of  Me- 
giddo.  Celebrating  as  it  does  a  sacerdotal  function,  it 
represents  a  time  when  the  kingly  authority  and  the 
priestly  service  were  richly  informed  by  the  propheti- 
cal spirit.     Such  a  time  was  tliat  of  Josiah. 

§  1074.  We  have  now  perhaps  sufficiently  defined  the 
Pi)here  of  the  genuine  prophets  of  Jehovah,  and  explained 
their  silence  on  what  might  seem  to  be  mutters  of  vital 
moment  to  religious  morals.  We  have  also  found  that 
no  public  acts  come  under  their  censure  \\\)  to  the  death 
of  Josiah.  What  concerns  us  at  present  is  the  views  they 
have  placed  on  record  of  the  events  which  culminated  in 
the  first  great  captivity  of  Judah.  There  are  four  pro- 
phetic names  which  give  distinction  to  the  period  from 
Josiah  to  Jehoiachin  :  these  are,  Zephaniah,  Nahum,  Ilab- 
akkuk,  and  Jeremiah.  AVe  have  already  considered  the 
message  of  the  first  two  (§  830-832)  and  have  observed 
that  their  practical  outlook  does  not  extend  beyond  the 
consequences  of  the  destruction  of  Nineveh  (§  1005 
note).  Ilabakkuk  shares  with  Jeremiah  the  distinction 
of  inter2)reting  the  career  and  heralding  the  fate  of  the 
Chaldocan  monarchy,  and  of  unfolding  their  significance 
for  Israel  and  the  kingdom  of  Jehovah.  It  will  now  be 
proper  for  us  to  give  a  rapid  summary  of  the  history  up 
to  the  captivity,  and  then  to  try  to  understand  it  in 
the  light  of  the  prophetic  commentary. 


'i 
1' 

h 

i 

1 

i 

h    ■ 

■•  1 

1 

^ 

k» 

•»■ 


mm 


mm 


CHAPTER  III 


i  I 


JUDAH'S   vassalage  to   the   CHALDiEANS 

§  1075.  Shortly  after  the  battle  of  Carchemish  (§  1043) 
Nebucliadrezzar  received  the  news  of  the  deatli  of  his 
father,  who  had  already  named  him  as  the  successor  to  the 
throne.  So  strongly  established  in  popular  favour  was  the 
Chaldtcan  dynasty  that  when  he  arrived  in  Babylon  to 
make  good  his  claim  he  was  acknowledged  on  all  hands 
as  the  rightful  heir.  The  task  of  relieving  Syria  and  Pal- 
estine of  the  Egyptians  and  their  influence  was  one  which 
required  the  personal  direction  of  the  king,  and  it  could 
not  have  been  long  ere  he  returned  to  the  scene  of  con- 
flict. The  details  of  his  progress  southward  and  the 
retreat  of  the  African  intruders  are  not  known  to  us. 
His  advance,  however,  could  not  have  been  long  delayed. 
Not  to  follow  up  the  victory  by  driving  the  Egyptiiins  out 
of  Asia  would  have  been  to  invite  the  enemy  to  divide 
the  Westland  with  him,  after  the  fashion  of  the  old 
Hettite  compact  (§  163).  To  delay  would  have  given 
the  Egyptians  time  to  establish  themselves  more  firmly 
than  ever  in  Palestine.  We  accordingly  conclude  that  the 
army  continued  to  operate  in  Syria  during  the  absence 
of  the  king,  and  that  in  the  course  of  the  next  year  (60-4 
B.C.)  Nebuchadrezzar  himself  appeared  in  Palestine,  and 
received  the  submission  of  Jehoiakim.  ^ 

1  This  is  not  the  usual  construction,  which  is  based  upon  the  assump- 
tion of  the  correctness  of  the  number  "  three"  in  the  text  of  2  K.  xxiv.  1. 
There  it  is  said  that  Jehoiakim  was  the  willing  subject  of  the  Chaldieans 
for  three  years  out  of  the  eleven  of  his  reign.    He  died  in  598  while  in 

1G7 


1] 


iUi 


■y\ 


'■    j 


!'•, 


I 


\H 


1G8 


SUBMISSION   AND  INSURRECTION 


Book  X 


§  1070.  We  have  every  reason  to  suppose  tliat  Jehoi- 
akim  offered  no  direct  opposition  to  the  Babyk)nian 
advance.  In  any  case,  if  he  had  done  so,  he  must 
have  been  promptly  deposed.  It  is  indeed  an  evidence 
of  tlie  clemency  of  the  new  dictator  that  he  did  not  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  extreme  measures,  when  he  saw  that  the 
allegiance  of  the  kingdom  of  Judah  was  withheld.  In 
genenil  he  was  desirous  of  disturbing  as  little  as  possi- 
ble the  already  existing  relations,  the  only  condition  he 
required  anywhere  being  the  acknowledgment  of  his 
sovereignty  and  the  payment  of  the  accustomed  tribute. 
One  perpetual  source  of  suspicion  and  irritation  there 
undoubtedly  was  :  the  proximity  of  Egypt  and  her 
habitual  intrigues  with  the  Palestinian  communities. 
A  projected  or  incipient  insurrection,  or  the  very 
whisper  of  a  conspiracy  aided  and  abetted  there  by 
Egypt,  brought  down  the  wrath  of  the  Chaldiean  over- 
lord, and  then  it  went  hard  indeed  with  the  luckless 
offender. 

§  1077.  It  could,  indeed,  have  been  only  the  expecta- 
tion of  help  from  Egypt  that  encouraged  the  ruling  class 
at  Jerusalem  to  the  act  which  we  have  next  to  record. 
It  was  toward  the  end  of  his  reign  that  Jehoiakim  refused 
to  wear  any  longer  the  yoke  of  subjection.  Of  the  feelings 
of  the  people  toward  the  suzerain  we  are  informed  by 
Jeremiah  (§  1091  ff.).    But  we  do  not  know  all  the  circum- 


rebellion,  and  Nebuchadrezzar  would  thus  seem  not  to  have  become  his 
suzerain  till  (502  or  COl,  iliree  or  four  years  after  Carchemish.  Josephus 
goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  king  of  Babylon  took  at  once  "all  Syria  as 
far  as  Pelusium,  except  Judah,"  and  that  four  years  later  he  sent  a  great 
army  against  Judah,  wliich  tlien  submitted  for  three  years  (Ant.  x.  0,  1). 
Ail  the  historical  conditions  iire  suited  if  we  may  assume  that  "six" 
(rr)  was  originally  written  and  not  "  three  "  (u'Sr)-  That  is,  Jehoiakim 
would  have  submitted  from  004  till  598,  when  Jerusalem  was  actually 
besieged  by  the  Clialdieans.  Little  light  is  thrown  on  the  question  by 
Dan.  i.  1,  where  tlie  old  interpreters  have  found  ground  for  assuming  a 
"  first  captivity  "  in  "  the  third  year  of  the  reign  of  Jehoiakim."  That 
was,  however,  one  year  before  the  battle  of  Carchemisli  ! 


T 


Cii.  Ill,  §  1078      REBELLION  AND   REPRESSION  1G9 

stances  that  led  to  tliis  fatal  step.  Most  probably  it  was 
clue  to  the  disinclination  of  the  landed  proprietors  and 
independent  classes  generally  to  pay  their  annual  share 
of  tlie  tribute  due  to  Nebuchadrezzar.  In  the  event  of 
their  refusal  to  provide  the  stated  indemnity,  Jehoiakini 
had  no  resource  but  to  deliver  up  the  royal  treasures,  or 
to  despoil  tlie  temple  of  its  revenues  or  its  adornments. 
Impoverishment,  if  such  really  threatened  him  and  his 
people,  was,  however,  to  be  preferred  to  the  certain  ruin 
which  unaided  rebellion  would  entail  upon  them.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  expectation  of  help  from  Egypt  was,  to  the 
people  of  Judah,  not  so  unreasonable  as  it  appears  to  u,s. 
The  new  Chaldican  empire,  victorious  though  it  had  been, 
was  still  without  the  prestige  of  long-established  renown. 
Nor  could  the  ordinary  observer  realize  that  it  had 
inherited  the  genius  and  power  of  old  Assyria.  Mcne- 
over,  Egypt  had  all  the  advantage  of  being  an  aggressive 
neighbour,  whose  interest  lay  in  keeping  the  Chaldieans 
at  a  distance  from  her  border. 

§  1078.  The  mode  of  repression  adopted  by  Nebuchad- 
rezzar showed  an  advance  in  military  methods  beyond 
that  employed  by  the  Assyrian  overlords.  To  harass 
and  impoverish  the  open  country  he  put  in  commission 
the  irregular  warriors  of  the  half-nomadic  peoples  of  the 
east  of  Judah,^  —  Aramaeans,  Ammonites,  and  Aloabites 
(2  K.  xxiv.  2).  Though  accustomed  to  forage  and  border 
raids,  they  had  been  restrained  from  such  incursions  during 
the  good  conduct  of  the  people  of  Judah.  Hence  their 
employment  against  them  as  rebels  to  the  central  authority 
added  a  twofold  terror  to  the  unequal  strife.  Behind  these 
came  the  troops  of  the  regular  army.  How  long  the  war 
lasted  we  cannot  tell  with  exactness.  We  know  that  it 
came  to  an  end  in  597  B.C.    But  before  its  close,  Jehoiakim, 


1  The  enmity  of  border  tribes  contributed  much  to  the  disasters  and 
humiliation  of  the  closing  days  of  the  Judaic  monarchy.  See  Ps.  cxxxvii.  7  ; 
Jer.  xii.  14 ;  Obadiah  ;  Micah  vii.  8, 


a. 


I 


I 


4.    ■! 


■II 


I 


ll. 


^^1 


m^ 


i:.: 


!1 


w 


170 


SUUUENDEU   AND  DEIHJUTATION 


Book  X 


;     i 


n! 


whose  life  and  liberty  were  forfeit,*  died  in  Jerusalem 
(2  K.  xxiv.  0). 

§  1079.  Jehoiachin,  the  son  of  Jehoiakim,  was  now 
placed  upon  the  throne  by  the  court  party,  who  still  dared 
to  hold  out  against  the  JJabylonian  assault.  He  was  but 
eighteen  when  his  father  died,  and  three  short  months 
sealed  the  fate  of  the  hapless  youth  called  thus  early  to 
this  forlorn  hope.  Scarcely  had  he  ascended  his  tottering 
throne  when  tlie  Great  King  himself  appeared  with  his 
army  before  the  city. ,  What  injury  he  had  wrought  upon 
the  surrounding  country  we  cannot  say.  Probably  it  suf- 
fered less  from  the  imperial  troops  than  from  tlie  raiders  of 
the  border;  for  Nebuchadrezzar  was  no  Sinacherib,  and  di<l 
not  indulge  in  savage  and  wanton  destruction.  AVhcn 
further  resistance  was  seen  to  be  useless,  the  young  king 
appeared  outside  the  walls  with  his  widowed  mother  and 
all  the  oiTicers  of  his  court  and  surrendered  at  discretion 
(2  K.  xxiv.  8  ff.  ;  cf.  Jer.  xxii.  24  ff. ;  Ezek.  xix.  8  f.). 

§  1080.  The  chastisement  of  the  insurgent  state  was 
severe  and  efifective,  though  the  loss  of  population  was 
numerically  not  very  great.  Tlie  purpose  of  punishment 
for  rebellion  under  the  Assyrian  regime  had  usually  been 
to  intimidate  from  further  revolt  by  remorseless  severity. 
The  ChakUean  policy  aimed  in  this  instance  to  discourage 
any  further  insurrection  by  making  it  physically  difticult  — 
by  depriving  any  future  seditious  movement  both  of  leaders 
and  resources.  The  captives,  who  numbered  in  all  about 
ten  thousand,  were  divided  into  three  classes,  the  nobles  or 
the  officials  and  courtiers  of  the  capital,  the  princes  or  heads 

1  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  point  out  that  the  apparent  harshness  of 
Nebuchadrezzar  implied  no  departure  from  the  regular  procedure  toward 
vassal  states  described  in  an  earlier  chapter  (§  286  ff.).  The  fact  that 
Judah  did  not  submit  at  once  after  the  defeat  of  the  Egyptians,  he  had 
already  overlooked  (§  1076).  That  the  punishment  of  rebellion  upon 
second  probation  was  so  severe  was  apparently  due  to  the  presumptive 
intriguing  with  Egypt.  It  is  needless  to  remind  the  reader  that  the  sub- 
jects of  Assyria  were  regarded  by  Nebuchadrezzar  as  legitimately  his 
own,  and  that  their  submission  was  expected  as  a  matter  of  course. 


Cii.  Ill,  §  1081 


JKIIOIACIIIX   IN  EXILE 


171 


of  the  local  eommunitios  (§  ;")3G),  and  the  skilled  artisans 
(2  K.  xxiv.  14).^  'J'hu  money  indemnity  was  paid  in  due 
course,  and  was  provided  from  the  royal  treasures  and  the 
utensils  and  ornaments  of  tlie  temi)le,  most  of  which  had 
been  spared  since  the  days  of  Solomon.  The  sucred  vessels, 
being  of  no  particular  use  as  such  to  the  (ireat  Kin<^,  and 
beinj^  also  mostly  of  inconvenient  size,  were  broken  up  for 
the  melting-i»ot  (v.  13). 

§  1081.  Jehoiachin  was  made  a  close  prisoner  for  life  ; 
and  thus,  in  less  than  a  decade,  there  was  atTorded  the 
spectacle  of  one  Hebrew  king  led  captive  to  Egypt  and  an- 
other carried  away  to  Babylon.  His  tinal  fate  is  recorded 
with  unusual  minuteness  (2  K.  xxv.  27  ft'.).  Of  his  inter- 
vening experience  we  know  nothing  except  that  several 
children  were  born  to  him  in  captivity  (1  Chr.  iii.  17  f.). 
Imprisonment,  as  a  rule,  did  not  mean  the  destruction  of 
family  and  domestic  life.  After  thirty-seven  years,  on  the 
accession  of  Evil-Mcrodach  (§  13(50)  in  o<!0,  he  was  not 
only  given  his  liberty,  but  in  compensation  for  his  long 
restraint  was  made  a  member  of  the  king's  household, 
enjoying  his  favour  and  bounty  till  death  put  an  end  to 
his  checkered  career  (Jer.  xxii.  2<t,  .30).  The  bulk  of  the 
people  were  carried  away  to  a  thinly  settled  district  by 
the  Kebar,  a  canal  near  Nipjiur  (§  1272),  in  northern 
Babylonia.  This  unique  settlement,  of  which  the  prophet 
Ezekiel  was  one  of  the  most  influential  members,  will  soon 
require  our  attention  again.  Here  we  must  pause  for  a 
little  to  hear  the  comment  of  the  prophets  upon  these 
stirring  events.  The  story  itself  has  not  yet  been  half 
told ;  for  its  leading  incidents  and  characters  can  only 
be  fairly  understood  in  the  light  that  falls  upon  them 
from  the  prophetic  record. 


1  One  might  infer  from  the  language  of  the  record  that  "all"  of  the 
available  spoil,  animate  and  inanimate,  was  deported  to  Babylon.  But 
the  comprehensive  phrase  designates  merely  a  large  number,  according 
to  familiar  Hebrew  literary  usage.  The  depletion  was  serious,  but  by  no 
means  general,  as  we  learn  from  the  subsequent  history. 


!    I<!;1 


J: 


mil 
t 


m 


'.    * 


CHAPTER  IV 

JERE^nAH   AND  THE  COMING    OF  THE   CHALDyEANS 

§  1082.  Jeremiah  is  almost  wholly  a  prophet  of  the 
ChalcUean  era.  There  is  little  or  nothing  in  his  extant 
works  whicli  can  he  directly  connected  with  an  earlier 
time.  Jeremiali  was  as  little  an  liistorian  as  might  he,  and 
what  he  reproduced  of  his  earlier  utterances  in  604  B.C., 
twenty-two  years  after  his  call  to  the  prophetic  office 
(Jer.  xxxvi.  32),  was  so  intermingled  and  overlaid  with 
thoughts  and  interests  of  the  present  as  to  he  seldom  dis- 
tinguishable.^    Even  the  greatest  political  event  of  his 


1  As  is  well  known,  the  book  of  Jeremiah  is  in  more  disorder  than  any 
other  prophetical  work  of  the  Old  Testament.  The  two  main  recensions, 
tiiat  of  the  Mas.s<>retic  text  and  that  of  the  Septuagint,  differ  greatly  both 
as  regards  the  text  itself  and  in  the  order  of  the  several  prophecies.  The 
subject  cannot  even  be  touched  upon  here ;  the  reader  must  turn  to 
Driver's  Iiitrodurtiun  and  to  special  treatises.  Fortunately,  the  substance 
of  the  book  i.s  little  affected  by  the  variations,  though,  as  far  as  mere  bulk 
is  concerned,  the  Septuagint  is  the  shorter  by  about  one-eighth. 

As  our  business  is  mainly  historical,  we  are  not  so  nnich  concerned 
with  the  order  of  the  writing  down  or  the  publication  of  the  several 
prophecies,  as  with  the  order  of  the  events  in  connection  with  which  they 
were  respectively  written,  —  two  things  which,  in  the  book  of  Jerenii.ah, 
are  by  no  means  identical.  As  a  guide  to  the  reader,  a  preliminary 
explanation  is  necessarv-  on  but  one  point.  According  to  Jer.  xxxvi.  4, 
Barueh.  at  the  dictation  of  Jeremiah,  wrote  down  the  prophecies  which 
had  been  delivered  up  to  that  date,  G06  B.C.,  or  the  fourth  year  of 
Jehoiakim  (xxxvi.  1).  And  according  to  xxxvi.  ;J2,  after  the  burning  of 
the  roll  by  Jehoiakim  in  his  fifth  year  (xxxvi.  9),  or  604  n.c,  Barueh 
took  down  in  like  fashion  the  contents  of  the  original  roll,  and  "there 
were  ad<led  besides  unto  them  very  many  words."  When  we  come  to 
incjuire  what  things  were  said  or  done  by  Jeremiah  up  to  December.  (J04, 
we  find  that  in  the  book  itself  there  are  three  distinct  sources  :  (1)  a  con- 

172 


'i   '\ 


Ch.  IV,  §  1083 


EARLIEST  DISCOURSES 


173 


early  ministry,  the  inroad  of  the  Scythians,  is  not  phiinly 
alhided  to  (§  813).  He  makes  no  direct  allusion  to  the 
reformation  of  Josiah,  the  most  important  religious  move- 
ment of  the  first  half  of  his  life  (§  lOdo),  nor  yet  to 
tiie  death  of  that  monarch,  the  catastroplie  which  revo- 
lutionized Israel  and  his  own  career  (§  10(59).  The  first 
event  to  which  he  makes  unmistakable  reference  is  the 
banishment  of  Jehoahaz  (xxii.  10-12  ;  §  10ot>)  ;  but  his 
utterance  was  not  written  down  till  the  reign  of  Zedekiah 
(cf.  §  1143).  We  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  our 
prophet  was  an  entirely  subordinate  figure  in  Israel  until 
the  Egyptian  and  Chahhoan  epoch.  That  he  should  have 
ignored  the  events  of  his  earlier  and  most  impressionable 
years  is  unthinkable  if  these  occurrences  had  coloured  his 
thought  or  enlisted  his  interference.  The  same  general 
conclusion  has  already  been  reached  in  our  study  of  the 
specific  function  of  the  prophets  (§  10t)9  ff.). 

§  1083.  Indeed,  we  may  be  reasonably  sure  of  the  time 
■when  Jeremiah  made  his  first  authoritative  appeal  to  the 
conscience  of  his  people.  If  chapters  ii.  and  iii.  rep- 
resent in  part  his  first  extant  discourse,  as  is  generally 
.supposed,  we  learn  from  it  directly  what  we  are  seeking. 
They  were  given  out  at  a  time  wlien  Kgypt  was  the  ruling 
influence  in  Judali.  One  of  the  references  is  general : 
"  And  now,  what  hast  thou  to  do  with  the  way  to  Egypt 
to  drink  the  waters  of  the  Nile?  or  what  hast  thou  to  do 
with  the  way  to  Assyria,  to  drink  the  waters  of  the  Eu- 
phrates?" (ii.  18).  The  other  is  specific  :  "•  Thou  shalt  be 
disappointed  in  Egyi)t,  as  thou  wert  disap[)ointed  in  As- 

nected  scries  of  discourses,  snbstantiiUly  chs.  i.-x..  with  no  special  nuta- 
tion of  time  or  circumstance;  {2)  anotlier  set  of  discourses  willi  tlie 
occasions  or  conditions  staled  or  indicated,  clis.  xi.,  xii.,  xviii.,  xxv.,  vivi.- 
xiix.;  (.">)  a  briefer  i,'roup,  mainly  biograpliical,  apiiareiitly  writti  ii  after 
the  death  of  Jeremiah,  clis.  xix..  xx.,  xxvi.,  xxxvi.,  xlv.  From  tl'dse  three 
collections  we  shall  have  to  make  our  citations  as  the  order  of »  v'ents  may 
demand.  It  is  worth  imiuiring  wlielher  uroup  (1)  does  not  .ontain  wiiat 
Rarucli  rewrote  in  December,  004,  and  i^roup  (2)  the  subs' .nice,  at  hast, 
of  the  *'  very  niiiny  words"  which  ''were  added  besides  uuto  them." 


;i ' 


•  1- 


If  I  I  >    I  I 


174 


OCCASION  OF  PUBLIC   APPEARANCE 


BookX 


Syria"  (ii.  36).  The  only  occasion  suitable  for  such  utter- 
ances was  the  time  after  the  battle  of  Megiddo  in  what 
might  be  called  the  Egyptian  interregnum,  when  also  he 
uttered  the  lament  over  Jehoahaz  (§  1039),  who  was 
dethroned  and  exiled  by  Pharaoh  Necho.  At  no  time 
during  the  latter  half  of  Josiah's  reign  was  there  any  need 
of  negotiations  with  Egypt,  nor  can  there  have  been  any 
political  occasion  of  seeking  help  in  that  quarter.  During 
the  latest  years  of  Josiah  the  relations  were  actually  hostile. 
A  third  passage  would  be  absolutely  conclusive,  if  it  were 
not  questionable  wiiether  it  properly  belongs  to  this  dis- 
course or  not,  since  the  section  in  which  it  occurs  inter- 
rupts the  course  of  the  argument.^  It  runs  thus :  "  The  sons 
of  Noph  and  Tahpanhes  break  the  crown  of  thy  head,"  fol- 
lowing up  the  words  :  "  His  [Israel's]  cities  are  burned 
up  and  are  without  inhabitant"  (ii.  15  f.). 

§  1084.  Why  then  was  it  not  till  005  B.C.  that  Jeremiah 
connnitted  any  of  his  discourses  to  writing  ?  Because  in 
the  days  of  Josiah  he  was  only  a  preaching  not  a  liter- 
ary i^rophet,  and  if  he  had  died  with  Josiah,  we  would 
have  had  no  knowledge  of  him  whatever,  not  even  of 
his  name.  The  conclusion  just  reached  suggests  some 
practical  observations.  We  now  have  a  satisfactory  expla- 
nation not  only  of  the  silences  of  Jeremiah  for  the  earlier 
years  of  his  ministry,  but  also  of  his  sudden  and  startling 
api)earance  in  605  B.C.  It  cannot  be  too  clearly  understood 
that  none  of  the  literary  pro[)liets  made  tlieir  record  on 
merely  dome  itic  or  local  issues  (cf.  §  1072).  In  projoor- 
tion  to  the  magnitude  of  the  international  issue  prophecy 
itself  became  of  importance.  This  has  been  sulliciently 
illustrated  by  the  various  phases  of  the  complications  with 
Assyria.  Now  that  the  petty  role  of  Egypt  in  Palestine 
is  being  abolished  by  Nebuchadrezzar  (Jer.  xlvi.  2),  and 


til 


1  See  Cornill,  The  Book  nf  Jcnmiah  in  Hebrew  (SBOT.),  p.  07.  It 
seems  to  be  admitted  that  Jeremiah  himself  is  the  author  of  the  interpo- 
lated passage.  He  must,  then,  have  Inserted  it  as  an  additional  illustration 
of  the  state  of  things  set  forth  in  the  main  discourse. 


Ch.  IV,  §  1086 


POLITICAL  CONDITIONS 


175 


the  larger  Chalda3an  sovereignty  comes  before  the  prophet's 
mind,  he  is  called  to  give  a  more  memorable  message. 
We  can  also  now  account  for  the  vagueness  of  Jeremiah's 
allusions  to  tlie  eventful  time  of  Josiah.  The  usual  sup- 
position is  that  the  earlier  chapters  of  the  bo(jk  have 
these  prior  events  as  tbeir  substratum,  and  that  their  in- 
definiteness  is  due  to  the  original  discourses  having  been 
rejjeated  from  memory.  It  is  more  correct  to  say  that  his 
earlier  sermons  were  in  the  very  nature  of  the  case  of 
comparatively  little  importance  and  hence  were  not  re- 
corded at  the  time. 

§  1085.  Having  thus  found  the  historical  setting  of  Jere- 
miah's earliest  literary  productions,  we  may  now  follow 
more  intelligently  the  most  luminous  points  of  his  public 
career.  In  the  opening  series  of  his  written  pro^jhecies 
there  are  three  principal  determining  political  conditions. 
The  first  is  the  Egyptian  domination ;  the  second  is  tlie 
situation  created  by  the  ChaUhean  triumpli  at  Carchemish  ; 
the  third  is  the  expected  descent  of  tlie  IJabylonian  forces 
upon  Judah.  The  last  named  coincides  with  the  occasion 
of  the  book  of  Habakkuk  (§  1130),  and  thus  furnishes  a 
fine  opportunity  of  coin[);u'ing  the  respective  points  of  view 
and  ruling  motives  of  those  master  spirits  of  prophecy. 
As  to  Jeremiah  himself,  w'c  cannot  but  observe  how, 
from  this  epoch  onward,  his  discourses  become  constantly 
clearer,  deeper,  and  wider,  and  how,  at  the  same  time,  the 
pur[)ose  and  character  of  his  life  are  more  fully  disclosed. 

§  108(3.  Jeremiah's  first  written  discourse  (ii.  1-iv.  4)* 
reveals  eloquently  the  religious  and  political  condition  of 
Judah  after  the  revolution  brought  on  by  the  death  of 
Josiah.  It  must  liave  been  delivered  shortly  after  the 
accession  of  Jehoiakim,  008  it.c.  In  its  literary  form 
we  lind  the  substance  of  several  distinct  addresses,  whicli 
the  author,  and  Baruch  his  scribe  (xxxvi.  4).  made  uj) 

1  That  is,  with  tlie  exception  of  iii.  0-18,  wliicli  is  now  gencriiily 
adniitled  to  be  out  of  place.  Cornill  (The  Ihmk  ofjeremuth  in  JLhriv, 
18!)5,  p.  45)  drops  iv.  1,2;  iv.  10  he  also  rejects. 


f'J 


ai 


^ 


>s  n 


, 


■i:-^ 


WW 


176 


CHARGE  OF  APOSTASY 


Book  X 


lit  >^'  * 


into  one  continuous  conii)osition.  The  whole  discourse 
is  a  complaint  on  two  main  grounds  :  religiously  Judah 
has  been  guilty  of  apostasy  from  Jehovah ;  politically  it 
has  committed  folly  in  consorting  with  Egypt.  The  head 
and  front  of  the  offending  in  both  cases  is  inconstancy 
and  treachery.  The  moral  and  religious  situation  is 
naturally  made  most  of.  Doubtless  the  contrast  with  the 
days  of  Josiah,  ^  when  all  forms  of  false  worship  were  at 
least  publicly  and  legally  discountenanced  and  made  a 
capital  offence,  gives  point  and  emphasis  to  the  charges  ; 
but  perhaps  nowhere  in  Prophecy  is  the  degeneration  of 
a  people  so  realistically  and  powerfully  set  forth.  Apos- 
tasy from  Jehovah  is  declared  to  be  in  a  sense  treason  to 
human  nature  (ii.  10-12).  No  island  or  continent,^  the 
world  itself,  has  ever  seen  the  like.  Every  land,  every 
people,  has  and  keeps  its  own  god.  "See  if  there  has 
been  anything  like  this.  Hath  any  nation  made  a  change 
of  gods  which  are  yet  not  (Jod?  But  my  people  have 
exchanged  their  glory  for  what  is  Avorthless.  lie  aston- 
ished c  *-■  this,  oh  heavens  I  shudder  and  wither  u})." 

§  1087.  This  religious  aspect  of  the  popular  infidelity 
looms  so  large  before  Jeremiah  that  we  must  read  be- 
tween the  lines  to  find  out  the  national  situation.  His 
people  are  clearly  in  some  adversity  from  which  their 
assiduous  cultivation  of  the  false  deities  can  not  and  shall 
not  deliver  them  :  "Where  are  thy  gods,  which  thou  hast 
made  for  thyself  ?  Let  them  rise  up  if  they  would  save 
thee  in  the  time  of  thy  misfortune  ;   for  as  the  number 

1  These  chapters  Ctannot  have  as  their  historical  basis  the  time  of  Josiah. 
It  is  conceivable  and  probable  that  reininiscences  of  the  former  period  and 
its  discourses  are  found  here  (r.(i.  ill.  10).  Ch.  ill.  0-18  is  avowedly  a 
reproduction  of  a  discourse  of  that  period.  But  there  the  complaint  is 
general,  and  is  couched  in  the  somewhat  stereotyped  languaj^e  of  pro- 
phetic accusation.  Here  the  charges  are  Vcarious,  minute,  and  specific, 
and  reveal  a  condition  of  thinits  simply  impossible  under  Josiah. 

2  Hepresented  by  Chittim  (§  42)  and  Kedar  (§  787).  A  striking  in- 
stance of  the  synecdoche  which  is  one  of  the  most  characteristic  features 

.  of  Hebrew  rhetoric. 


1:11 


Ch.  IV,  §  1088      KGVl'TIANS   AM)  CHALDvKANS 


177 


of  thy  cities  have  been  thy  gods,  oh  Judah!"  (ii.  28). 
The  trouble,  we  apprehend,  is  that  which  followed  the 
death  of  Josiah:  the  deposition  and  captivity  of  Jehoahaz, 
tlie  vitssalage  of  Jelioiakini,  and  the  uncertainty  of  the 
fate  of  the  country  in  view  of  tlie  aggressive  and  rising 
Chaldiean  power.  One  thing,  at  least,  was  very  clear  to 
the  prophet,  as  to  his  predecessors,  that  nothing  was  to 
be  gained  by  relying  upon  Egyptian  protection.  "  I  low 
dost  thou  change  thy  course  so  very  lightly?"'^  Thou 
shalt  be  disappointed  in  Egypt,  as  thou  wast  disap- 
pointed in  Assyria"  (ii.  36).  And  yet  like  ITabakkuk 
(§  1135),  near  the  same  date,  Jeremiah  here  insists  that, 
though  Israel  must  be  punished  for  its  sin,  the  instru- 
ments of  that  chastisement  shall  be  held  to  account  for 
that  same  providential  work  which  they  are  commissioned 
to  perform.  "  Israel  is  sacred  to  me,  and  the  first  fruits 
i)f  his  increase.  All  tliat  devour  him  shall  be  held  guilty, 
evil  shall  come  upon  them,  saith  Jehovah"  (ii.  3). 

§  1088.  The  second  subject  of  jjrophetic  comment  in 
this  series  of  discourses  is  the  ensuing  conflict  between 
the  Egyptian  and  Chakljean  forces  at  Carchemish  (('>05 
11. c).  Jeremiah's  celebration  of  the  downfall  of  the 
Asiatic  empire  of  Egyjtt  (Jer.  xlvi.  3-12)  is  one  of  the 
most  poetical  of  his  com})ositions  and  assumes  the  form 
of  a  triumphal  ode.  It  is  easy  to  understand  tlie  feelings 
of  the  author.  To  every  true  prophet  Egyi)t  was  an 
object  of  aversion  often  mixed  with  contempt.  Jeremiah 
saw  on  the  one  side  the  hollowness  of  its  pretensions,  and 
the  certainty  of  its  demolition  whenever  the  Chahhciin 
power,  "the  hammer  of  tlie  whole  earth"  (Jer.  1.  23) 
should  strike  it  full  and  hard.  On  the  other  side,  he 
beheld  with  indignation  the  spectacle  of  his  people  rely- 
ing upon  the  friendsiiip  of  Egy])t,  and,  what  was  far 
worse,  welcoming  as  counsellor  and  protector  the  ruler 
that  had  struck  down  the  i)atriot  Josiah. 


'  Hi'iul  '^n  (""''t)  with  ( Jiesebreeht  after  the  Sept.     Literally; 
dost  thou  iiiiikc  su  very  light  of  chani;iujj  lliy  course  i* " 


IIo^ 


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178 


ODE  OF  CAKCUKMISH 


Book  X 


§  1089.  The  poem  speak.s  for  itself.  It  has  all  tlie 
energy  but  none  of  tlie  obscurity  of  its  prototypes,  the 
old  battle-songs  of  Israel.  It  has,  however,  much  of  their 
imjjlacable  and  vengeful  spirit,  a  spirit  insei)arable  from 
the  desperate  struggles  with  foes  equally  remorseless  and 
more  powerful,  which  moulded  both  the  history  and  the 
temper  of  the  Hebrews.  It  begins  with  a  derisive  sum- 
mons to  the  usurpers  of  the  sovereignty  of  Asia  to  furbish 
up  their  weapons,  don  their  armour,  and  rush  into  the 
fight  (xlvi.  3,  4).  liut  this  is  only  a  reminiscence  of  the 
vast  array  that  went  proudly  into  battle  ;  for  the  confiict 
is  already  over  :  the  field  all  bestrewn  with  fallen  warriors 
is  abandoned  in  terror  (vs.  5,  (»).  Then  follows  a  tine 
Homeric  figure.  "Who  is  this  that  rises  high  like  the 
Nile,  whose  waters  heave  like  the  rivers?  Egypt  rises 
high  like  the  Nile,  and  his  waters  heave  like  the  rivers. 
He  saith,  I  will  rise  high,  I  will  overspread  the  land  ;  1 
will  destroy  the  cities  and  their  inhabitants"  (vs.  7,  8). 
This  overweening  boastfulness  evokes  another  challenge 
from  the  prophet,  who  calls  for  the  horses  and  chariots 
that  were  the  ancient  pride  of  the  P^gyptian  army,  and 
bids  the  mercenary  troops  tal  e  the  field  with  them  :  the 
Ethiopians  (Cush),  the  Abyssinians^  (l*ut),  and  the 
Libyans 2  (Lubim).  The  expected  march  to  victory  will, 
however,  turn  out  to  be  a  going  forth  to  defeat  and  death. 
It  is  Jehovah  whom  the  Egyptians  shall  meet  at  Car- 
chemish,  and  his  sword  shall  be  satiated  with  their  blood, 
the  only  sacrifice  that  will  appease  his  vengeance  (v.  10). 
The  blow  thus  falling  upon  Egypt  will  be  fatal,  the  wound 
incurable  beyond  easing  by  the  balm  of  Gilead,  or  healing 

1  This  name  is  used  here  for  Put  for  want  of  a  better  word.  Accord- 
ing to  W.  Max  Mliller.  Anien  und  Europa,  pp.  100-120,  their  country  would 
seem  to  have  lain  north  of  Abyssinia  along  the  Red  Sea.  Egyptian  Pimt 
is  South  Arabia,  whence  come  the  Abyssiiiians.  It  is  seductive  that  the 
original  Egyptian  name  of  the  people,  C'habet,  is  .so  similar  to  Chabesh, 
"  Aby.ssinia." 

2  Kead  here  and  Gen.  x.  13  Lubim  for  Ludhn.  The  Lydian  mercena- 
ries were  not  a  permanent  auxiliary  of  Egypt,  like  the  Libyans  (§  345). 


T 


Cii.  IV,  §  1091     FORECAST   OF  THE   CllALD.FAXS 


179 


by  any  medicine  (v.  11).  The  cry  of  Ej^ypt  is  lieartl 
over  all  the  earth,  and  with  it  goes  everywhere  her  shame 
and  reproach  among  the  nations  (v.  12). 

§  lOUO.  Such  were  Jeremiah's  sentiments  as  to  the 
I'Lgyptians  and  their  fate.  What  was  his  forecast  of  tiieir 
successful  rivals?  His  words  regarding  the  CliahUuans 
furnish  a  much  better  test  of  liis  prophetic  insight  and 
foresight.  The  fortune  of  the  Egyptians  was  not  beyond 
the  outlook  of  a  shrewd  observer.  In  any  case  in  deal- 
ing witii  the  Egy[)tians  lie  had  to  do  with  merely  nega- 
tive results.  Their  power  was  broken,  and  Palestine  and 
Syria  w^ould  soon  see  the  last  of  them.  But  to  cast  the 
horoscope  of  the  new  and  adventurous  Chaldiean  empire 
required  a  true  vision  of  coming  realities  from  a  loftier 
standpoint.  Jeremiah,  however,  shrinks  back  from  no 
pinnacle  or  steep  of  the  divine  ascent,  and  from  the  height 
of  prevision  which  he  now  attains  he  never  after  descends. 
One  may  say,  indeed,  that  upon  the  all-important  question 
of  the  relations  of  the  Chaldiean  monarchy  to  his  own 
people  he  gained  no  essentially  new  light  to  the  end  of 
liis  days.  From  the  beginning  he  accepted  all  the  horror 
and  shame  of  his  country's  probable  ruin  as  a  matter  of 
divine  and  necessary  right.  The  future  had  no  great  sur- 
prises for  him,  though  many  a  bitter  disappointment.* 

§  1091.  The  third  subject  which  engaged  the  atten- 
ti.^n  of  Jeremiah  at  this  eventful  period  (§  1085)  is  accord- 
ingly the  expected  descent  of  the  Babylonians  ujjon  Judah. 
It  is  alluded  to  in  the  second  of  those  discourses  contained 
in  the  summary  destroyed  by  Jehoiachin  and  rewritten 
by  Baruch  (§  1082  note),  that  is,  in  Jer.  iv.  5 — vi.  80. 
In  chapter  xxvi.  it  is  thrust  upon  public  attention  as  a 
practical  question,  though,  as  far  as  we  know,  the  invaders 
or  their  leader  are  not  mentioned  by  name  till  after  the 

1  Like  other  large  and  sensitive  souls,  Jeremiah  met  the  greater 
calamities  and  decisive  strokes  of  fortune  with  calm  serenity,  wliile  he 
was  perpetually  tortured  by  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  daily  struggles  and 
vexations  incident  to  them. 


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180 


A   PUBLIC   AUKAKiNMENT 


Book  X 


battle  of  CarcheniLsli.  The  foijiier  passage  (iv.  5  ft'.), 
while  containing  a  sununary  of  the  offences  charged 
against  Israel  during  the  wlnjle  pi-eceding  portion  of  the 
prophet's  ministry,  has  for  its  n)ore  direct  object  to  point 
out  to  the  people  the  specihc  form  in  which  their  sin  is  to 
be  punished.  The  agents  were  to  be  a  people  from  the 
north  (iv.  6,  15 ;  vi.  1,  22  ;  cf.  xxv.  9).  The  Hebrews 
knew  little  about  the  exact  relative  position  of  distant 
nations.  IJabylon  was  almost  due  east  from  Jerusalem, 
but  Jeremiah  was  thinking  of  the  fact  that  the  great  in- 
vading armies  of  the  past  had  come  by  way  of  the  north, 
notably  the  destroying  Assyrians;  and  he  knew  that  the 
army  which  was  predestined  to  put  an  end  to  the  Egyp- 
tian sovereignty  was  soon  to  cross  the  Euphrates,  and 
descend  from  the  north  upon  Syria  and  Palestine.  We 
may  add  to  this  what  is  recorded  in  chapter  xxvi.  4-<J,  to 
the  effect  that  Jerusalem  was,  for  its  sins,  to  be  made 
desolate  like  Shiloh  (§  1003,  cf.  §  490). 

§  1092.  We  are  now  at  the  threshold  of  Jeremiah's 
memorable  struggle  with  the  ruling  classes  among  his 
own  people.  Let  us  look  at  the  parties  and  the  issues  in 
the  light  of  the  leading  incidents.  We  turn  to  the  nar- 
ration in  chapter  xxvi.  7  ff.  The  story  opens  (xxvi.  7) 
with  a  scene  assigned  to  "  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of 
Jehoiakim,"  a  vague  expression  which  apparently  includes 
the  regnal  period  up  to  GOo  B.C.  The  narrator  does  not 
go  behind  the  actual  events,  but  lets  the  story  speak  for 
itself.  The  prophet  appears  at  one  of  tlie  great  annual 
feasts,  and  gathering  up  his  former  complaints  and  a[)peal8 
into  one  terrible  warning,  he  declares  that  not  (Uily  the 
holy  city  but  the  temple  itself  shall  be  destroyed  and 
desolated,  because  the  people  had  ho  persistently  refused 
to  listen  to  the  prophetic  word.  Those  of  the  ruling 
orders  whose  prerogative  was  most  directly  attacked,  the 
priests  and  professional  propliets  (§  lOdO  ff.),  broke  out 
in  a  frenzy  of  rage,  demanding  the  death  of  that  one  of 
their  own  original  circle  who  had  ventured  to  oppose  tho 


Cii.  IV,  §  109.]     UAGE   OF   I'HIKSTS   AN'I)    I'UOlMlIVrS 


IHl 


orthodox  tnulitionul  belief  of  the  iiiviohibility  of  the  tem- 
ple, and  to  ignore  the  representatives  of  religion  generully 
in  the  state.  The  priests  and  propliets  had  the  popnlar 
feeling  with  them,  sinee  it  was  easy  to  convince  the  people 
that  sucii  utterances  against  the  saerijd  place  were  i>rofane 
and  blasphemous.  The  tunudt  that  followed  bronght  the 
matter  to  the  attention  of  the  princes  of  the  l<in<]^"s  house- 
hold (§  oSl,  o;JG  tt'.).  Ti)  them  the  priests  and  projdu'ts 
api)ealed  as  civil  judges,  demandinj^  capital  ])unishnu'nl  for 
.lei'emiah.  The  princes,  hearing  both  sides  im})artially, 
<leclared  that  he  had  done  nothing  worthy  of  death,  since 
lie  had  simply  spoken  in  the  name  of  Jehovah.  The  fact 
Avas,  that  inasnuu-h  as  he  liad  not  gone  into  the  details  ol 
the  ruin  of  the  city  and  no  special  national  foe  was  named, 
his  announcenuMit  did  not  so  directly  touch  their  dignity 
or  prerogative,  and  hence  tliey  could  atTord  to  treat  the 
case  on  its  merits.  Their  decision  was  reinforced  l)y  the 
voice  of  the  "elders"  of  the  people  C§  48G,  587),  who  had 
concurrent  jurisdiction  with  the  princes.  One  of  tliese 
cited  the  case  of  Micah  the  Morasthite,  who  in  the  days 
of  Hezekiah  had  made  a  similar  deiuuiciation  with  im- 
punity, and  was  in  fact  deferred  to  by  the  king  and  i)eo- 
ple,  so  that  the  divine  judgment  was  revoked  (vs.  17-1!)). 
Jiut  the  priestly  faction  was  abetted  by  a  stronger  intlu- 
ence  than  any  enlisted  in  his  protection  —  the  king  himself 
and  the  most  servile  of  his  ministers.  An  illustration  of 
the  spirit  of  this  whole  repressive  movement  is  afforded 
by  the  fate  of  a  loyal  colleague  of  Jeremiah,  Uriah  st»n 
of  Shemaiah.  This  faithful  follow'er,  delivering  the  same 
message,  was  obliged  to  flee  to  Egypt  in  order  to  cscai)e 
the  vengeance  of  the  king.  Thence  he  was  dragged  back 
a  prisoner  to  Jerusalem,  where  Jehoiakim  put  him  to 
death,  and  cast  his  body  into  the  burial-place  of  outlaws 
and  criminals.  The  ])owerful  friendship  of  Ahikam  ( §  843) 
served  for  a  time  to  shield  Jeremiah. 

§    1093.     Encouraged  by  the  anti-prophetic    spii-it  of 
the  king,  the  rivals  of   Jeremiah  left  no  means    untried 


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182 


DEVKLOl'MKXT  OF   DISCOL'USK 


Book  X 


I,  1 


to  act'oinpllsh  his  proscription  and  deatli.  Tho  nt'xt 
clian<ro  in  the  situation  shows  them  to  luive  ahnost  ^•'ained 
their  (!nd.  They  were  not  seant  of  material  on  whicli  to 
base  their  attacks.  Chapters  vii.  to  x.^  of  his  prophecy 
contain  a  reiteration  and  expansion  of  the  sermon  which 
had  so  deei)ly  stirred  all  classes  of  the  people.  The  dis- 
course strikes  ri<.^ht  at  the  religious  leaders.  It  also 
shows  well  how  the  specific  message  of  the  prophet  was 
binng  shaped  and  moulded  by  the  quickening  forces  of 
Providence  into  a  thing  of  abiding  life  and  power.  We 
observe  how  he  defines  more  sharply  tlu!  true  relation  of 
the  tem[)le  to  the  national  existence  :  "Trust  not  in  deceit- 
ful words,  saying:  these  (holy  places) are  Jehovah's  temple, 
Jehovah's  temple,  Jehovah's  temple.  For  if  ye  thoroughly 
amend  your  ways  and  your  doings,  if  ye  do  justice  between 
man  and  man  .  .  .  and  do  not  go  after  other  gods  to  your 
own  hurt,  then  I  will  cause  you  to  dwell  in  this  i)lace,the  land 
which  I  gave  to  your  fathers  from  of  old  and  forevermore. 
Behold  ye  trust  in  deceitful  words  that  count  for  nothing. 
Will  ye  go  on  stealing,  murdering,  conuiiitting  adultery, 
and  swearing  falsely,  and  oft'ering  incense  to  Haal,  and 
going  after  other  gods  which  you  know  nothing  of,  and 
then  come  and  stand  before  me  in  this  place  which  is 
called  after  my  name,  and  say  :  we  have  been  preserved 
in  order  that  we  do  all  these  abominations  7^  lias  this 
house,  Avhich  is  called  by  my  name,  become  a  robbers'  cave 
in  your  eyes? "^  (vii.  4-11).  The  fate  of  Shiloli  (cf.  xxvi.  6) 
is  then  more  amply  detailed  as  a  warning,  and  also  the 
rejection  of  the  Northern  Kingdom. 

1  Exclusive,  as  is  now  generally  admitted,  of  x.  1-10,  of  uncertain  date. 

2  This  is  one  of  the  clarifying  sentences  in  which  the  book  of  Jeremiah 
abounds.  The  meaning  is  that  the  opponents  of  the  true  prophetic  party 
actually  claimed  that  Jehovah  had  set  the  seal  of  his  approval  on  their 
conduct  and  religious  practices  by  having  "delivered  "  them  and  the  holy 
places  (v.  4),  during  all  the  Egyptian  imbroglio,  from  the  sword  and  pes- 
tilence and  famine. 

8  That  is  to  say,  "  Do  you  approve  of  its  being  like  a  robbers' 
cave  ?  " 


Ch.  IV,  §  1095        FALSI-:   AM)   TKUK   WOKSllIP 


183 


§  10J>4.  More  speeilir  also  now  is  his  reference  to  the 
modes  of  false  worship  (ef.  §  lUHO)  practised  hy  his  peoph;: 
"Do  not  thou  pray  on  l)elialf  of  this  people  ;  and  do  not 
utter  for  them  a  cry  or  prayer,  and  do  n(»t  intercede  for 
them,  for  I  shall  not  hear  them  (cf.  xi.  14).  Dost  thou 
not  see  what  they  are  doin<»'  in  the  cities  of  .ludah  and  in  t*he 
streets  of  Jerusalem?  The  children  are  <,'atherin_n' sticks, 
and  the  fathers  are  kindling  a  fire,  and  the  women  are 
kneeding  dougii  to  make  sacriticial  cakes  for  the  (^iiccn 
of  Heaven,*  and  to  pour  out  lil»ations  to  other  gods,  so  as 
to  provoke  me  to  anger"  (vs.  16-18).  We  next  encounter 
another  of  the  great  sentiments  of  our  pro[)hct  (  cf.  §  lOOH). 
"Thus  saith  Jehovah  of  Hosts,  the  (Jod  of  Israel,  add  (if 
you  will)  your  hiu'ut  offerings  to  your  festal  sacrifices,  and 
eat  the  flesh. ^  For  I  did  not  speak  to  your  fathers,  nor 
did  I  command  them,  when  I  brought  them  out  of  the 
land  of  Egypt,  concerning  burnt  offerings  and  festal  sacri- 
fices. But  this  thing  I  did  command  them,  saying  :  Listen 
to  my  voice,  and  I  will  be  your  God  and  ye  shall  be  my 
people  ;  and  ye  shall  walk  in  all  the  wa}^  that  I  shall  enjoin 
upon  you,  so  that  it  may  be  well  with  you"  (vii.  '2\-2o). 

§  1095.  The  prophet's  mood  now  turns  to  fierce  den»in- 
eiation.  Only  the  strongest  and  most  lurid  images  can  do 
justice  to  his  feelings.  Of  Tophet  we  have  already  heard 
{§  718)  in  connection  with  the  judgment  upon  Siiuicherib. 
Jeremiah  knows  of  victims  more  worthy  still  of  such  a 
fate,  those  who  have  themselves  made  its  burning  piles  the 
scene  of  their  profane  and  cruel  rites.     As  one  reads  the 

1  Usually  explained  as  Venus,  goddess  of  the  evenini?-star.  In  Stade 
(ZAT  W.  VI,  12:)-132,  280-3:J!))  the  view  that  the  phrase  is  a  collective  for 
the  host  of  heaven,  finds  a  strenuous  but  unsuccessful  defender.  Tlie 
■worship  is  Assyrio-Babylonian  as  well  as  Canaanitisii. 

2  The  implication  is  that  the  sacrifices  of  the  temi)le  were  kept  up  by 
the  worshippers  largely  on  account  of  the  social  and  festive  gatherings; 
for  in  these  sacriticial  feasts  the  god,  the  offerer,  and  the  priest  were  com- 
mon participants.  But  however  they  might  vary  or  multiply  the  types  of 
sacrifice,  their  motive  was  always  unwortliy  and  ignoble,  in  the  view  of 
the  prophet. 


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TOl'llKT   AM)  THE   UMJLIIIKI)   DEM) 


HouK  X 


judjifineiit  of  the  prophet,  one  ciiiinot  but  think  of  what 
eonstitutes  the  essence  of  thiit  (leheiuia  of  which  the  Viil- 
ley  of  llinnoni  was  both  tlie  ori^'inal  and  the  Ohl  Testa- 
ment symbol  —  sin  brin^'in*,'  not  sinjply  sntt'erin^  but 
its  own  proper  punishment.  This  is  inch'ed  the  only 
i^vplanation,  the  only  moral  vimlieation,  of  the  worm  that 
dieth  not  and  the  lire  that  is  not  quenched.  *'C'ut  off  thy 
head-tire,*  and  j'ast  it  away  :  and  utter  a  lament  uj)on 
the  woodless  heii^hts  :  for  Jehovah  hath  (U's})ised  and  cast 
off  the  jj^eneration  of  Ins  wrath.  For  the  children  of 
.ludah  have  done  evil  in  my  sight,  saith  Jehovah  ;  they 
liave  set  their  abominable  things  in  the  house  which  i* 
called  after  my  name,  to  desecrate  it.  And  they  build 
the  liigh  places  of  Tophet  which  is  in  the  valley  of  the 
S(m  of  Ilinnom  to  burn  their  own  sons  and  daughters  in 
the  fire  —  a  thing  winch  I  have  not  prescribed  and  which 
has  not  enteied  into  my  mind.^  Therefore,  behold  the 
days  are  coming,  saith  Jehovah,  when  it  shall  no  more 
be  called  the  Tojthet  or  the  Valley  of  the  son  of  Ilinnom, 
but  the  Vale  of  Slaughter  :  for  they  shall  bury  in  Tophet 
till  no  place  is  left  to  bury.  And  the  corpses  of  this 
people  shall  be  food  to  the  birds  of  heaven  and  the  beasts 
of  the  earth,  and  there  will  be  lu^ne  to  scare  them  away  " 
(vii.  20-33). 

§  109G.  Still  another  horror  is  announced,  the  most 
ghastly  of  all  to  an  ancient  Oriental  and  the  most  to  be 
deprecated:  "At  that  time,  saith  Jehovah,  they  shall 
bring  out  the  bones  of  the  kings  of  Judah,  and  the  bones 
of  its  princes,  and  bones  of  the  priests,  and  the  bones  of 
the  prophets,  and  the  bones  of  the  inhabitants  of  Jeru- 
salem, from  their  graves.  And  they  shall  scatter  them  to 
the  siui  and  to  the  moon,  and  to  all  the  host  of  heaven, 
whom    they   have    loved   and    whom   they    have    served. 


J  The  city  is,  as  usual,  personified  as  a  maiden. 

2  Equivalent  to  saying,  "which  I  disavow  and  abhor."     Litotes  is  a 
favourite  usage  of  Hebrew  rhetoric. 


Cii.  IV,  §  1007 


FALSIFYINCJ    HKVELATIOX 


lHa< 


aiKi  uiiv"  wlioiu  tliey  have  walked,  aixi  of  wlium  tlu-y 
liavu  iiMiuirci.,  aiicl  to  whom  they  hav»'  bowed  (h>w!i. 
They  shall  not  be  j^athered  up,  nor  shall  they  be  buried  : 
they  shall  be  jTjirbanfo  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  And 
<leath  shall  be  (ihosen  rather  than  life  by  all  the  remnant 
that  shall  survive  of  this  evil  raee  in  all  the  places 
whither  I  have  thrust  tlusm  out,  saith  Jehovah  of  hosts" 
(viii.  l-'5).  Such  was  the  fate  reservetl  for  recreant 
Israel  :  death  without  a  ^rave,  ik»  restinjj-placi'  for  tin* 
disend)odied  "jfliosts,  no  union  with  the  ancestral  shades, 
no  reunion  under  the  family  head,  for  souls  fuLjitive  and 
outlawed,  exiled  and  honudess  btrever. 

§  101)7.  Next  we  have  a  glimpse,  all  too  rare,  into  the 
inner  workings  of  ec;clesiastical  [lartit-s  in  .lerusalem. 
The  keynote  of  the  complaint  is  found  in  eh.  viii.  10  : 
"From  pro[)het  to  priest  ever}'  one  of  them  a<-teth  dei-eit- 
fully."  The  preacher  wonders  why  there  is  no  sign  of 
change  or  turning  in  the  course  of  the  otVi'uding  [)e()i)le, 
who  rush  into  sin  as  the  horse  rushes  headlong  into  battle 
(viii.  4-0).  More  insensate  than  the  bird  of  passage, 
which  unfailingly  observes  the  times  of  its  going  and  re- 
turning, they  ignore  the  im[)erious  law  of  life  and  conduct 
of  loyalty  and  duty  which  is  just  as  truly  a  law  of  nature 
under  the  ordering  of  Jehovah^  (v.  7).  In  defence 
of  their  course  in  any  special  case,  they  ap{)eal  to  their 
written  teaching  (law)  of  Jehovah.  To  this  Jeremiah 
replies  that  their  scribes  have  falsified  Jtdiovah's  revela- 
tion :   "The  pen  of  the  scribes  has  wrought  deceitfully"^ 

1  Observe  that  to  the  ancient  Semites  the  divine  inHiience  and  control 
were  operative  just  <a.s  truly  in  the  life  of  animals  as  in  the  spirit  of  man, 
since  superhuman  action  impelled  all  activity  in  all  alike.  Moreover,  to 
them  there  was  no  well-defined  distinction  between  nature  and  the  super- 
natural such  as  we  so  confidently  make. 

2  This  reference  is  somewhat  obscure.  It  cannot  be  meant  that  any 
portion  of  the  writinf;s  already  "canonical  "  w.is  falsified  by  the  scribes. 
This  they  did  not  dare,  and  probably  did  not  desire,  to  do.  Two  explana- 
tions are  possible.  Either,  like  their  New  Testament  antitypes,  they 
"made  void  the  connnandments  of  God   by  their  traditions''  (.Mark 


t 

\ 

1 

. 

m 


iM 


'.J 


n 


wr 


188 


WUATII   AND  TEARS 


Book  X 


■!    :j] 


(v.  8).  Having  thus  added  treachery  toward  their  coun- 
trymen and  unfaithfuhiess  toward  Jehovah  to  their  shame- 
less moral  and  religious  abominations,  nothing  remained 
for  them  but  the  extremest  modes  of  exemplary  suffering 
(vs.  10-18).  Again  as  before  it  is  the  foe  coming  from 
the  north  that  is  to  execute  the  vengeance  of  Jehovah  : 
"  From  Dan  has  been  heard  the  snorting  of  his  horses :  at 
the  sound  of  the  neighing  of  his  steeds  all  the  earth  hath 
trembled"  Cv.  16). 

§  101)8.  In  Jeremiah  grief  perpetually  struggles  for 
the  mastery  with  indignation.  In  the  fierceness  and  fury 
of  his  wrath  there  is  often  heard  an  undertone  of  pity 
and  remorse,  like  the  far-off  moaning  of  an  indignant 
sea,  or  the  wind's  wailing  interlude  in  the  roaring  of 
the  tempest.  Kver  and  anon  we  hear  a  lialf-stiHed  sob 
suddenly  quenched  by  an  outburst  of  anger.  Hut  at 
.last  the  heart  within  the  man  insists  on  utterance ;  the 
revulsion  throws  him  prostrate  in  an  agony  of  distress ; 
and  then  a  torrent  of  tears  follows  upon  the  thunder 
of  his  passion.  In  such  a  passage  of  his  discourse  the 
hy[)erb<)le  requires  no  explanation.  Tears  are  at  once 
an  intellectual  and  a  spiritual  solvent,  and  clarify  alike 
the  deepest  thought  and  feeling.  Thus  with  tears  of 
smitten  grief  he  utters  the  incomparably  pathetic  words 
of  his  lamentation  for  his  peo[)le  seen  in  banishment 
without  their  king,  still  unsaved  at  the  end  of  the  season 
of  grace,  beyond  the  reach  of  healing  by  all  the  balm  of 
(Jilead  (vs.  18-22).  Equally  moving  and  translucent  are 
his  tears  of  shame  for  the  vices  and  crimes  of  his  people, 
mingled  with  vexation  at  their  incorrigible  treachery  and 
deceit.  "Oh  that  my  head  were  waters  and  my  eyes  a 
fountain  of  tears,  that  I  might  weep  day  and  night  for  the 

vii.  13,  Matt.  xv.  0), — that  i.s,  they  nullified  the  received  "teachiiifj;"  by 
their  coiniiient-s  and  sjlo.sse.s, — or  else,  wiule  divine  revelation  was  ad- 
mittedly still  made  in  Israel,  these  prophets  and  their  scribes,  in  contra- 
distinction to  .Jeremiah  and  IJaruch,  misrepresented  Jehovah  and  thus 
falsified  his  teaching.    The  latter  solution  is  the  more  probable. 


m 


mmtmm 


€n.  IV,  §  1100 


A   GREAT  CONFESSIOX 


187 


slain  of  the  daughter  of  my  people  !     Oli  that  I  had  in  the 
wilderness  a  lodge  for  wayfaring  men  !  .   .   .  "  (ix.  1-9). 

§  1099.  We  must  make  room  for  another  2)assage 
without  which  any  account  of  the  spiritual  and  mental 
history  of  our  prophet  would  be  defective.  It  may  not 
be  in  its  right  [Anve  in  the  current  texts ;  but  it  is 
appropriate  almost  anywhere  amctng  these  discourses. 
It  sets  on  the  broadest  basis  Jeremiairs  own  faith  and 
devotion  as  a  species  of  moral  enthusiasm,  ins[)ired  by 
the  knowledge  and  contemplation  of  a  (iod  whose  very 
nature  expresses  itself  in  rigiiteousness  and  mercy.  "Thus 
saith  Jehovah  :  let  not  the  wise  man  boast  of  his  wis- 
dom ;  and  let  not  the  mighty  nnin  boast  of  his  might ; 
let  not  the  rich  man  boast  of  his  riches  ;  but  if  any  one 
will  boast,  let  him  boast  of  this,  that  he  understandeth 
and  knoweth  me,  that  I  am  Jehovah  that  hath  kindness 
and  justice  and  righteousness  in  the  earth,  for  I  have 
pleasure  in  these  things,  saith  Jehovah"  (ix.  22  f.).  This 
specimen  of  the  grand  prophetic  style  is  the  Old  Testa- 
ment confession  of  faith,  to  be  set  beside  the  victorious 
avowal  of  St.  Paul,  (ial.  vi.  14  (cf.  also  1  Cor.  i.  31  ; 
2  Cor.  X.  17). 

§1100.  The  next  step  —  a  brief  one  in  Jeremiah's 
career  —  brought  him  from  the  position  of  an  indignant 
accuser  to  that  of  a  suspected  traitor.  The  transition 
stage  is  described  in  chapter  xi.-xii.  G.  The  rather  frag- 
mentary record  is  introduced  by  a  reminiscence  of  an 
earlier  time  ^  (cf.  §  9G1),  when  Jeremiah  was  directed  to 

1  This  section  was,  of  course,  not  written  down  till  (iOo  n.r.  (§  1082); 
but  xi.  1-8  are  introductory  and  explanatory.  The  formula,  xi.  1,  "'I'iie 
word  which  was  to  Jeremiah  from  Jehovah,  sayinir,"  is  the  one  usually 
employed  when  the  time  or  occasion  is  indefinite.  An  attentive  view  of 
the  whole  section  will  show  clearly  the  motive  of  the  initial  reminiscence. 
The  diarge  brousjlit  against  the  people  of  conspiracy  (xi.  !)).  which  is 
naturally  connected  with  the  actual  plot  against  Jeremiah  (xi.  18  ff.),  i.s 
directly  ba.sed  upon  their  infraction  of  the  "covenant"  (xi.  10),  which 
covenant  Jeremiah  himself  had  been  commissioned  to  preach  to  his 
.fellow-countrymen  (xi.  1  ff.). 


I 


1;:1 


ih 


y.i 


j 


I -A 


188 


COVKNANT-nUKAKIXG    AND   CONSPIRACY       Book  X 


address  tlie  people  of  Judah  and  Jerusalem,  exhortinj^ 
them  to  observe  the  commands  of  Jehovah,  particularly 
the  "covenant"  (Ex.  xxiv.  7  ;  Deut.  v.  3),  that  is,  virtu- 
ally the  moral  and  spiritual  re(piirements  contained  in  JE 
and  Deuteronomy.  In  (contrast  with  the  ideal  community 
that  was  to  be  schooled  antl  nurtured  into  ol)cdience  and 
jturity  of  life  and  worship,  the  people  of  Jehovah  are  a 
band  of  recreant  idolaters  (xi.  9  f.)  whose  gods  are  as 
many  as  their  cities,  and  in  whose  cities  every  street  has 
an  altar  breathing  incense  to  Baal  (xi.  18).  Therefore  the 
threats  of  the  book  of  the  Covenant  must  be  carried  out 
(xi.  8),  and  when  the  doom  is  fulfilled  there  shall  be  no 
rei)rieve  :  their  own  gods  shall  be  deaf  to  their  cries  ; 
Jehovah  shall  be  deaf  and  duml)  (xi.  11  f.),  nor  shall  any 
intercession  be  made  for  them  (xi.  14).  All  this  is  a 
matter  of  moral  cause  and  effect,  and  not  of  ceremony  and 
ritual  (§  1005  note). 

§  llUl.  These  denunciations,  sweeping  and  general  as 
they  sound,  have  a  specific  and  definite  occasion,  and  this 
is  none  other  than  an  attempt  on  the  life  of  the  prophet 
himself,  made  by  his  fellow-townsmen  of  Anathoth.  'J'lie 
exact  circumstances  are  not  related.  It  is  natural,  how- 
ever, to  couple  the  plot  with  the  threats  uttered  at  the 
entry  of  the  temple  (§  1092).  Still  more  significant  is 
the  fact  that  in  the  appeals  for  capital  punishment  against 
Jeremiah,  the  oflicial  })riests  had  taken  the  leading  part, 
and  that  Anathoth,  wheio  the  attempt  was  made,  was 
a  community  of  priestly  families.  The  local  priesthood 
were  of  course  under  the  control  of  the  central  body  at 
Jerusalem.  Without  the  instigation  or  authority  of  the 
latter  they  would  scarcely  have  undertaken  such  a  serious 
enterprise,  odious  as  Jeremiah  was  to  the  whole  of  the 
regular  priesthood.  In  the  present  case  a  blow  straight 
and  strong  liad  been  aimed  at  the  priesthood,  and  the 
resentment  was  uncontrollable.  Jeremiah,  however,  had 
a  powerful  friend  at  court  (§  1002),  and  the  time  had  not 
come  for  an  open  attack  upon  his  life.      Hence  treachery 


C'H.  IV,  §  no.'}         LESSON    FROM   THK    roTTKii 


180 


was  resorted  to,  and  it  would  even  seem  that  some  of  his 
own  kindred  were  concerned  in  the  nefarious  scheme  (xii.  6). 

§  1102.  The  guilty  parties  are  connected  with  tlie 
plot  by  Jeremiah  himself  (ch.  xviii.).  The  record  runs 
l)arallel  with  the  account  of  the  scene  l)efore  the  temple 
(ch.  xxvi.),  and  apparently  relates  what  occurred  soon 
thereafter.  The  prophet  sees  a  potter  at  his  wheel,  reject- 
ing work  which  had  been  spoiled,  and  making  a  new  vessel 
according  to  his  own  design  (xviii.  1-1).  This  transa(;tion 
is  applied  to  the  case  of  Israel,  which  is  a  vessel  spoiled  for 
Jehovah's  purposes,  so  that  He  has  to  reject  it,  according 
to  tlie  theory  and  practice  of  his  government  of  the  world. 
The  vessel,  however,  is  a  living  people,  end(nved  with  the 
power  of  choice,  so  that  repentance  may  yet  stay  the  hand 
stretched  out  to  destroy  (xviii.  5-10).  When  the  crisis 
is  presented  to  the  rulers  of  the  j)eople,  they  stubbornly 
persist  in  their  own  destruction  (xviii.  11  f.).  When 
the  sentence  is  pronounced  against  their  land  and  nation 
(vs.  13-17),  they  enter  into  a  formal  conspiracy  against 
Jeremiah,  basing  their  action  on  the  ground  that  he  has 
usurped  the  function  of  the  regular  guides  of  the  people, 
the  priests,  counsellors,  prophets:  "for  direction  shall  not 
fail  from  the  priest,  nor  counsel  from  the  wise,  nor  tiio 
word  from  the  prophet"  (v.  18).  Here  again  the  imme- 
diate qurstion  was  one  of  professional  rivalry  (cf.  §  l0'.i;5). 
But  the  grievance  that  brought  upon  Jeremiah  the  enmity 
of  the  whole  olhcial  class  was  his  su[)[)()sed  treason,  in 
giving  over  his  country  to  the  new  foreign  power  that 
should  take  the  place  of  the  routed  Egyptians  (§  lO'.tl  f.  ). 

§  1103.  This  conflict  was  to  Jeremiah  the  begiiniing 
of  sorrows.  He  had  ardently  ho[)ed  that  the  prosjx'ct 
of  subjugation  by  an  irresistible  foe  would  move  king 
and  people  to  some  serious  attemjjt  at  reformation. 
But  they  could  not  see  things  with  his  eyes.  This  false 
worship,  imitative,  exotic  and  sickly,  and  the  depend- 
ence on  foreigners  which  it  had  encouraged,  had  made 
them  feeble,  hesitating,   and   vacillating   in   all   civic  ar- 


!:?  ;*!; 


H  '  r 


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190 


JEREMIAH  AND   HIS   PERSECUTORS 


Book  X 


m- 


tion,  internal  or  external,  so  that  a  practical  fatalism 
paralyzed  both  thought  and  enterprise  throughout  the 
body  politic.  Thus  the  threatened  invasion,  real  and 
imminent  as  it  was  to  Jeremiah,  was  to  them  only  a 
remotely  contingent  i>eril,  till  it  came  thundering  at 
their  gates.  In  like  manner,  though  habituated  to  the 
formuke  of  prophetic  teaching  for  generations,  they  could 
not  interpret  its  language,  which  could  only  be  "spiritu- 
ally discerned."  Above  all,  the  range  and  scope  of 
its  practical  applicaticm  were  wholly  beyond  their  ken. 
Slaves  as  they  were  to  ceremony  and  ritual,  even  when 
giving  Jeliovah  the  chief  place  in  their  formal  services, 
they  were  without  that  "inspiration"  which  endowed  Jere- 
miah and  his  little  circle  with  a  sense  of  tiie  living  power 
of  Israel's  God  both  in  the  political  and  in  the  moral 
realm.  As  the  outward  functions  of  religion  filled  out 
their  idea  of  worship,  so  they  could  not  conceive  that  the 
object  of  their  devotions  was  active  and  potent  beyond 
the  visible  sphere  of  their  customary  formalities.  As 
religion  with  them  took  the  place  of  morality,  so  sight 
took  the  place  of  faith,  tlie  present  of  the  eternal,  Jeru- 
salem of  the  world.  The  vulgar  belief  reasoned  thus  : 
"Jehovah  dwells  in  Zion  :  He  must  protect  Jerusalem 
against  all  enemies,  else  how  should  He  save  himself? 
We,  who  are  Ids  people,  dwelling  in  Jerusalem,  are  safe  as 
long  as  Jerusalem  and  Jehovah  himself  are  safe."  Doubt- 
less in  many  minds  similar  sentiments  prevailed,  grounded 
upon  like  arguments,  with  regard  to  the  gods  associated 
with  Jehovah  in  the  popular  worship. 

§  1104.  No  intellectual  and  moral  hostility  can  be 
stronger  than  that  which  arises  between  a  prophet  and  a 
professional  dogmatist.  When  the  issue  at  stake  is  one  of 
supreme  practical  importance  the  contest  is  virulent  and 
deadly.  Since  neither  party,  in  the  strict  sense,  reasons, 
recourse  is  had  to  other  modes  of  attack.  In  the  present 
instance  the  official  prophets  and  priests  construed  Jere- 
miah's judgment  upon  the  city  and  temple  as  treason,  while 


Cii.  IV,  §  1105    THE   PROPHET'S   MALEDICTIONS 


191 


he  assailed  tlieiii  in  good  set  terms  as  the  real  enemies  of 
JeLjvah  and  of  his  government,  as  aiders  and  abetters 
of  all  those  forms  of  hnpiety  and  inimorality  whieh  were 
rife  under  their  administration.  In  their  view  death  was 
the  only  fate  tiiat  he  deserved  ;  by  fair  and  open  means 
if  possible,  if  not,  then  by  assassination.  On  his  part 
there  is,  at  this  crisis,  jnst  as  little  self-restraint.  His 
mouth  also  is  full  of  cnrsing  and  bitterness  (xviii.  21  11'.  ; 
cf.  xii.  8),  and  he  invokes  upon  them,  their  wives,  and 
children,  the  most  terrible  of  divine  visitations.  Making 
all  allowance  for  Oriental  extravagance  and  rhetorical 
redundance,  the  imprecations  are  so  appalling  and,  as  we 
may  say,  so  unchristian,  that  some  comment  u[)on  them 
is  necessary  even  in  an  historical  sununary  like  the  present. 
An  explanation  may  help  to  satisfy  us,  since  justiiication 
is  impossible,  and  since  the  process  of  explaining  away 
has  justly  become  discredited. 

§  1105.  Observe  firstly  the  form  and  mode  of  this 
attack  upon  Jeremiah.  I  lis  opponents  were  guilty  of 
the  basest  treachery.  There  was  apparently  nothing  to 
extenuate  the  wrong,  except  perhaps  Jeremiah's  aggres- 
siveness and  iteration.  Machinations  against  his  life, 
the  plan  of  assassination  being  frustrated  only  by  special 
revelation  (xi.  18),  were  bad  enough  ;  but  his  own  kin- 
dred were  actually  employed  as  the  instruments,  and  tliat 
while,  as  it  would  seem,  he  was  on  one  of  his  accustomed 
visits  to  the  home  of  his  youth.  Secondly,  the  sting  of 
the  cruel  design  was  its  ingratitude.  Jeremiah  knew 
that  his  message  was  the  true  one,  and  that  its  accept- 
ance alone  could  save  his  city  and  country.  If  he  claimed 
any  superiority  over  his  rivals,  it  was  because  he  was  the 
accredited  messenger  of  Jehovah.  Moreover,  his  moral  and 
spiritual  demands  were  in  accord  with  earlier  revelation, 
and  therefore  should  have  been  at  least  respected  by  all 
parties  in  the  state.  But  he  was  sentenced  as  an  impostor 
by  nearly  all  his  fellow-citizens,  with  the  king  at  their 
head,  and  persecuted  as  a  traitor. 


■i- 

I: 
If- 


I- 


iV  ' ! 


<:; 


102 


TIIK   IMIOI'HET'S   SUFFERINGS 


Book  X 


§  1100.  Whiit  most  concerned  Jeremiah  was  the  vindi- 
cation of  the  truth  of  God,  the  determination  of  the  ques- 
tion whether  in  critical  instances  the  faithfuhiess  and 
rij^hteousness  of  Jehovah  would  be  demonstrated.  To  his 
rivals  the  main  (juestion  at  issue  was  whether  Jehovah 
would  approve  of  their  present  political  measures  (cf.  Jer. 
xxviii.  1  ff.).  His  intense  insistent  temper  made  it  a 
wearying  business  to  abide  the  long-deferred  decision. 
Hut  it  was  not  this  that  made  the  sharpness  of  liis  heart- 
ache. It  was  that  he  must  endure  the  defaming  and 
mocking  of  the  majority  for  his  belief  and  trust  in  Jehovah 
—  in  his  own  words,  "because  the  word  of  Jehovah  is  made 
a  reproach  to  me  and  a  derision  all  the  day"  (xx.  8). 

§  1107.  Another  consideration  presents  itself.  He 
was  confounded  and  bafHed  by  the  mystery  of  his  trouble. 
Old  Testament  prophets,  pre-exilic  and  post-exilic  alike, 
regarded  suffering,  no  matter  how  inflicted,  as  the  direct 
consequence  of  their  own  transgression.  Indignation 
against  his  enemies,  as  his  interviews  with  Jehovah  reveal, 
was  mingled  Avith  reflections  as  to  his  own  shortcomings, 
of  which  the  disappointments  and  ai)parent  failure  of  his 
life  seemed  to  be  the  result.  The  elements  of  human 
sorrow  were  never  presented  to  any  soul  more  bitter  or 
undiluted.  IJut  neitlier  he  nor  any  other  sufferer  of  the 
olden  time  could  analyze  the  contents  of  the  cup  which 
the  Father  had  given  him  to  drink.  And  so,  if  we 
M'^onder  at  his  self-despair,  alternating  with  incoherent 
maledictions  against  his  persecutors,  our  pity  of  him  must 
be  tempered  with  something  like  admiration,  as  we  behold 
him  in  the  very  desperation  of  bewilderment,  casting  him- 
self at  the  feet  of  the  Master  and  taking  to  himself  the 
blame  for  the  wreck  of  his  hopes,  of  his  career,  and  of  the 
cause  of  God  and  Israel. 

§  1108.  Again,  this  spirit  of  revenge  belonged  to  a 
special  stage  of  Jeremiah's  experience  .and  of  his  proi)hetic 
career.  Such  a  consideration  is  of  biographical  and  liter- 
iiry  value,  since  it  enables  us  to  group  into  one  collection 


Cu.  IV,  §  110!) 


HIS    VICAKIOUS   MIMSTUY 


103 


those  scattered  passages  of  his  memoirs  which  exhibit  an 
extreme  of  rancour  ami  intolerance,  liut  it  is  also  in- 
structive as  showing  that  it  was  a  transient  phase  of  his 
(leveh)i)ment ;  in  fact,  a  necessary  stage  in  iiis  spiritual 
and  moral  education.  Finally,  we  may  think  more  justly 
of  these  outbursts  if  we  recollect  that,  while  they  would 
be  sinful  in  us,  they  were  not  necessarily  so  improper  in 
the  ancient  pr()[)hets  of  Jehovah.  We  have  been  taught 
by  the  incarnation  and  sacrilice  of  the  Christ,  that  even 
the  most  evil  of  men  are  not  entirel}'  reprobate.  On  the 
other  hand,  Jeremiah  and  his  feHows  were  in  a  real  scnsi" 
not  acting  or  sp(!aking  for  themselves  alone,  but  for  the 
faithful  people  of  Jehovah,  that  nameless  band  who  were 
despised  and  wronged,  and  could  speak  only  through 
him  for  justice,  righteousness,  and  mercy.  To  claim  ven- 
geance for  oneself  nlone  is  always  ignoble.  But  it  is  a 
species  of  "  noble  I'age  "  to  demand  condign  punishment 
for  those  who  have  contemned  and  crushed  the  suffering 
saints  (cf.  §  oOT  ff.).i 

§  1109.  In  every  strenuous  and  victorious  life  there 
comes  a  time,  soon  or  late,  when  the  climax  of  effort  and 
endurance  is  reached,  and  after  this  supreme  ordeal  has 


m 

m 

m 
m 


1  Upfercnce  may  be  iiiadi'  in  general  terms  to  the  so-called  vindictive 
or  imprecatory  psalms,  some  of  which  are  supposed  to  have  been  com- 
posed by  Jeremiah  himself  at  this  period  of  his  life.  The  ]^rooi  of  such 
authorship  is  not  very  obvious.  Hut  it  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  tliat 
the  canonical  jtropliels,  and  tlie  psahnists  i<nown  or  supposed  to  be  i<nown 
by  name,  were  the  only  examples  or  "  types"  of  vicarious  sufferinu  in  tlie 
olden  time.  It  is  not  out  of  place  to  observe  that  if  the  rijrht  historical 
method  of  interpreting  the  Old  Testament  did  nothing  more  thiin  further 
the  explanation  of  such  obnoxious  passages,  it  would  deserve  well  of  the 
church  and  the  world.  The  writer  has  known  a  lady,  the  wife  of  a 
clergy nuui  and  the  mother  of  two  clergymen,  who  refused  to  tlie  end  of 
her  U)ng  life  to  read  or  sing  the  ''cursing  jisalms. "'  Why  they  are  evir 
sung  by  modern  Christians  is  one  of  the  mysteries  that  can  only  be  ex- 
plained by  the  final  philosoiihy  of  human  nature.  Hut  it  is  to  be  hojied 
that  the  coming  generation  may  be  able  to  read  them  without  either  feel- 
ing shame  for  the  Hook  of  Hooks  or  tUtering  apologetic  soi)histries  in 
behalf  of  its  consistency  and  moral  perfection.  The  Hible  is  only  con- 
sistent with  itself  wiien  viewed  as  an  historical  development. 
o 


:\li 


;  :i 


'   K 


'i; 


nr- 


1!»4 


COMFOUT  AFIKH  CONFLICT 


Book  X 


SI 


been  passed  the  soul  is  sure  of  itself  and  proof  against  all 
new  disclosures  and  surprises.  Such  a  time  came  to  Jere- 
miah with  this  "sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow";  and  it  is 
strange,  divinely  strange,  that  his  strengthening  and 
couHdence  came  not  with  a  promise  of  relief  or  com- 
fort, hut  with  the  assurance  that  his  present  conflict  was 
hut  a  foretaste  of  sterner  and  more  agonizing  strife. 
"  For  thou  hast  run  against  footmen  and  tlujy  wearied 
thee;  then  how  Avilt  thou  compete  with  horses?  In  a 
peaceful  land  thou  art  seiMire;  hut  how  wilt  thou  do  amid 
the  jungles  of  Jordan  ?"*i  (ch.  xii.  5).  Yet  it  Avas  well 
for  him  that  he  should  now  know  the  worst  that  could 
oefall.  Ilenccfortii  he  knew  that  there  were  none  u[)on 
whom  he  could  rely  (cf.  xii.  6)  save  Jehovah  alone.  The 
rock  which  dashed  his  ship  to  pieces  bore  him  up,  wounded 
and  bleeding,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  breakers.  And  so 
we  soon  find  him  still  in  the  midst  of  bitter  conflict,  with 
no  abatement  of  outward  storm  and  stress,  but  maintain- 
ing against  all  appearances  his  coniidence  in  Jehovah,  by 
reason  of  the  word  of  faith  and  promise  within  him  (ch. 
XX.  0  ff.  ;   §  1112). 

§  1110.  Before  this  point  is  reached,  however,  events 
take  place  which  intensify  the  outward  conflict  and  bring 
Israel  some  steps  nearer  to  its  doom.  Again  the  potter's 
vessel  (§  1102)  and  the  valley  of  Tophet  (§  1095)  come 
into  view.  A  finished  product  of  the  skilled  workman's 
labour  is  brought  by  Jeremiah  before  a  company  of  "elders 
of  the  peo[)le  and  elders  of  the  priests,"  outside  the  city 
gate  that  led  to  Gehenna.  An  irrevocable  decree  of  de- 
struction  is  pronounced  upon  Jerusalem,  whose  terrors 
are  to  be  concentrated  in  that  scene  of  horrible  desecra- 
tion.    Then  the  vessel  is   broken  before    their   eyes,  to 

1  Litorally.  the  "splendour  of  Joidan."  that  is,  the  thick  foliascf"  nnrl 
rank  vegetation  with  which  the  banks  of  the  Jordan  were  arrayed,  and 
wiiich,  according  to  ch.  xlix.  19  (cf.  li.  44)  and  Zech.  xi.  3,  were  the 
haunt  of  wild  beasts,  represented  by  the  lion,  and  therefore  avoided  as 
dangerous  for  travellers. 


1: 


"^^  ■- 


Cii.  IV,  §1112     PHOVOCATION   AND  ITNISIIMENT 


106 


symbolize  tlio  catastrophe  (Jer.  xix.  1-13).  Naturally 
the  ire  of  the  priesthood  was  excited  by  the  liarangue 
and  the  judy;inerit.  Daring  their  fiercest  rage,  Jeremiah, 
after  the  symbolic  action,  returned  to  the  city,  and,  taking 
his  stand  in  the  court  of  the  temple,  reiterated  the  words 
of  doom  in  the  audience  of  the  people  (v.  14,  lo). 

§  1111.  At  length  it  was  felt  that  a  warning,  public 
and  exemplary,  nnist  be  given  to  such  an  incorrigible 
offender.  Accordingly,  a  member  of  a  leading  j)riestly 
family,  Pashhur,  son  of  Immer,  who  was  chief  ofVu^'r  of 
the  temple,  had  Jeremiah  arrested  for  sacrilege,  basti- 
nadoed, aiul  placed  in  the  stocks  over  night  near  tiie 
"u[)per  gate  of  lienjamin,"  at  the  northern  side  of  the 
temple  court.  On  the  following  morning  he  was  released, 
the  legal  })unishment  having  been  fully  inflicted.  Jeie- 
miah  then,  fully  aroused  and  im[)lacable,  pronounced  a 
judgment  U[)on  his  persecutor  personall}-,  in  addition  to 
a  detailed  re[)ctitiou  of  the  sentence  u[)on  the  land  and  its 
rulers  (xx.  1-G;  cf.  Am.  vii.  10). 

§  1112.  After  this  strain  upon  a  mind  and  soul  to 
which  all  personal  antagonism  was  a  fiery  trial,  the  har- 
assed pro^thet,  borne  down  for  a  moment  with  a  sense  of  the 
terrible  dcstiii}'  which  he  had  accepted,  breaks  out  against 
himself  and  his  own  fate  in  terms  almost  as  horriljle  as 
those  which  he  had  em[)loyed  against  his  foes  (xx.  14-18).^ 
This  utterance  (of.  Job  iii.)  sounds  to  us  like  an  arraign- 
ment of  Providence.  But  "cursing  one's  day"  was  a 
practice  in  which  Orientals,  pious  or  im[)ious,  frequently 
indulged  when  in  a  despairing  mood;  and  the  language 
of  J(!remiah  is  merely  an  expnnsion  of  familiar  formuho. 
It  is  accompanied,  however,  b}'  a  direct  protest  to  Jidio- 
vah,  which  turns  at  last  into  words  of  adoration.  This 
noble  passage  runs  as  follows:  "Thou  didst  beguile  me, 

1  These  verses  are  placed  by  Cornill,  following  Ewald,  before  vs.  7-l."<. 
The  whole  passage  (vs.  7-18)  is  assigned  by  Cornill  to  the  time  of  Zede- 
kiah.  but  its  contents  suit  the  present  stage  in  Jerendah's  life  adnurably, 
following  up  as  they  do  Lis  complaints  in  chs.  xi.  and  xii. 


„  I 


:v' 


■'       i   \' 


i':.'i 


>  '1 


"11 


k    ' 


A 

:      i 


i 


i. 

M 

h 


106 


JEKKMIAU'S    LNWAUI)    VICTOUY 


Book  X 


N;    |- 


Jehovah,  and  I  was  heguikfd.  Thou  liast  overpowered 
me  and  overcome  me.  I  have  become  a  hiughing-stock 
all  the  day;  everyone  is  mocking  me.  For  vvlienever  I 
speak  I  cry  out,  'injustice  and  o])pression,'  because  the 
word  of  (Jod  has  become  a  reproach  to  me  and  a  scorning 
continually.  And  I  keep  saying,  'I  will  mention  it  no 
more,  and  speak  no  longer  in  his  name;'  and  then  it 
becomes  in  my  heart  like  a  burning  fire  shut  up  in  my 
bones,  and  I  become  weary  of  holding  in,  and  I  cannot  do 
it.  For  I  have  heard  the  slanders  of  many  people,  and 
fears  aie  all  about  me.  'Denounce  him,  and  we  will 
(lenounce  him,  too,'  say  all  my  swoin  companions,  who 
are  watching  for  my  fall;  'perhaps  he  Avill  be  entrapped 
and  we  shall  prevail  against  hiin,  and  take  vengeance 
u])on  him.'  But  Jehovah  is  on  my  side  as  a  might}' 
champion  ;  therefore  my  persecutors  sliall  stumble  and 
not  prevail.  The}'  are  grossly  put  to  shame  because  of 
their  folly,  yea,  with  an  everlasting  rei)roach  which  shall 
not  be  forgotten.  And,  Jehovah  of  Hosts,  that  dost  try 
the  righteous,  that  seest  into  the  reins  and  the  heart,  I 
shall  see  thy  vengeance  upon  them,  for  to  Thee  I  have 
confided  my  case.  Sing  ye  to  Jehovah;  praise  ye  Jeho- 
vah, for  He  hath  delivered  the  soul  of  the  needy  fi-om  the 
hand  of  evil  doers  "  (xx.  7-13).  Truly  this  hard-trained 
spiritual  athlete  ran  better  against  the  horses  than  against 
the  footmen  (cf.  §  1109). 

§  1113.  We  are  now  in  a  position  to  measure  more 
accurately  the  moral  interval  between  Jeremiah  and  the 
ruling  parties  in  the  state.  Except  from  one  jjoint  of 
view  Jeremiah's  course  was  unpatriotic  and  wrong,  and 
that  point  of  view,  though  all-important  to  him,  seemed 
to  his  opponents  ridiculously  irrelevant.  He  was  to  them 
an  unpractical  amateur  in  politics,  and,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  he  was  anything  but  a  politician.  The  Chaldicans 
were  nothing  to  him,  nor  he  to  the  Chaldteans,  save  for 
the  kingdom  of  God.  But  that  kingdom  was  bound  up 
with  the  body-politic,  which  was   its   material  mode  of 


it 

•>._ 

i 

1 , 

1 

'       i 

1 

;ii^   .  ,  ii 

Cii.  IV,  §  1114        Ills   I'UniMIKTIC    DISTINCTION 


Uti 


expression.  He  did  not  distinguish  between  its  outwurd 
form  and  tiie  imvurd  spirit  or  motive,  which  emph)yed 
king  and  princes  and  elders  and  priests  and  prophets  as  its 
instruments  and  servants.  Hut  with  that  clear  singleness 
of  view  which  is  perhaps  the  surest  note  of  lleluaie  in- 
s[)iration,  lie  regarded  every  event  that  affected  the  fate 
of  Israel  as  the  tlirect  action  of  Jehovah,  while  his  profes- 
sional rivals  did  not  differentiate  -lehovah  from  the  other 
divinities  except  as  the  controller  of  Zion  and  the  temple, 
his  sacred  seat.  Another  and  more  cardinal  distinction 
was  that  according  to  his  genuine  proidietic  conception 
Jehovah  Wiis  not  only  immanent  and  active  in  Israel,  hut 
being  the  (Jod  of  the  whole  world  lie  e(»ntrolled  also  the 
actions  of  outside  nations  upon  Israel. 

§1114.  All  this,  lK>wever,  is  only  theoretical  and 
belongs  t(j  the  sphere  of  Biblical  theolog}'.  Jeremiah's 
discourses,  his  pleadings  and  threatenings,  his  reproaches 
and  denunciations,  his  strong  crying  and  tears,  belong  to 
history  and  literature,  that  is,  to  humanity.  What  was 
it  that  converted  the  belief  of  the  universality  and  neces- 
sity of  Jehovah's  interference  in  human  affairs  ^  into  the 
inward  sense  of  his  presence  and  his  urgent  concern  for 
his  earthly  kingdom?  More  definitely  still,  what  gave 
Jeremiah  his  assurance  of  the  hostile  advance  of  the 
Chaldteans,  such  as  Amos,  Ilosea,  and  Isaiah  entertained  t' 
of  the  Assyrians,  and  of  the  divine  necessity  of  their 
coming,  while  liis  compeers  and  colleagues  entertained 
neither  the  one  idea  nt)r  the  other?  The  answer  is  the 
open  secret  of  the  Old  Testament,  of  its  history  and  its 
teaching.  Jehovah  has  a  moral  not  a  mere  mechanical 
relation  to  his  people.  He  demands  their  worship  not 
merely  because  he  is  the  God  of  Israel,  i-equiring  rites 
and  ceremonies  as  the  badge  and  expression  of  servi- 
tude, but  because   true  homage  paid  to  him  is  a  sub- 

1  A  doctrine  which,  of  course,  was  never  formulated  by  Jerfmiah  or 
any  other  of  the  prophets,  or  abstracted  by  them  from  their  consciousness 
of  Jehovah's  activity  in  the  sphere  of  human  history. 


!'■•    |lr 


W 


m 


M  4 


A  !■ 


11)8 


TIIK    KNKMY   rrHLICLV   NAMED 


Book  X 


li::^ 


')!   !;■ 


mission  of  the  huiirt  and  lifu  to  his  moral  rtMjuircmcnts 
—  righteousness,  justice,  and  mercy  (ix.  '24)  —  which 
supersedes  all  ritual  and  saeriliee  ( vii.  22  f.).  On  the 
ether  hand,  all  immorality  —  injustice,  faitidessness,  cru- 
elty, deceit  —  is  rebellion  against  Jehovah,  or,  in  other 
words,  violation  of  his  moial  law,  whii-h,  in  its  very 
nature,  demands  punishment.  National  immorality  de- 
mands national  punishment.  The  scourge  of  the  nation 
must  he  the  strongest  of  tlie  foreign  powers,  that  is,  onco 
the  Assyrian,  now  the  ChahUean.  JJecause  of  the  god- 
lessness  and  unrighteousness  of  Jehovah's  peoi)le,  their 
chastisement  by  the  ChahUeans  is  an  inexorable  neces- 
sity. Hence  this  was  the  great  burden  of  Jeremiah's 
messages  to  the  people  and  the  king.  And  this  purpose 
so  dominated  liim,  that  he  Avas  emphatically  a  man  of  one 
idea,  and  therefore  one  who,  beyond  the  circle  of  his  few 
devoted  followers,  was  feared  and  suspected. 

§  1115.  One  more  piddic  a[)i)earance  was  vouchsafed 
to  the  importunate,  hard-besct  prophet.  Ch.  xxv.  l-lo  con- 
tains the  abstract  of  a  discourse  delivered  by  Jeremiah  "to 
all  the  people  of  Judah  and  all  the  inhabitants  of  Jerusa- 
lem" in  the  fourth  year  of  Jehoiakim  (xxv.  1,  2).  This 
address  marks  an  advance.  The  message  gains  in  force 
and  clearness.  But,  as  we  shall  see,  it  has  serious  conse- 
quences to  the  preacher  himself.  What  is  essentially  new 
in  it  reads  as  follows  (xxv.  8,  0):  "Thus  saith  Jehovah 
of  hosts,  because  ye  have  not  heard  my  words  I  will  send 
and  take  all  the  families  of  the  north  —  and  to  Nebuchad- 
rezzar, king  of  Babylon,  my  servant  —  and  will  bring 
them  against  this  land  and  against  its  inhabitants,  and 
against  all  these  nations  round  about,  and  I  will  devote 
them  to  destruction."  That  Jeremiah  should  now  name 
directly  tlie  author  of  the  impending  disaster  was  ap[)ro- 
priate  and  perhaps  inevitable.  For  four  years  the  young 
Chaldajan  conqueror  had  been  famous  throughout  western 
Asia.  He  had  perhaps  just  been  proclaimed  viceroy  by 
his  father.     Moreover,  it  was  his  triumph  at  Caiehemish, 


1) 


<:».  IV,  §  1110 


A   (iKNKKAL   FAST 


100 


acliiuveil  in  this  very  year  (xlvi.  2),  wliirh  made  it  obvi- 
ous to  the  i)ro[)liet  tiiat  the  ultimate  subjectiou  of  Syria 
and  Palestine  was  inevitable.*  Hut  hitherto,  in  aci-ord- 
anee  with  the  habit  of  [jrophecy,  he  had  spoken  in  gt'iicral 
terms,  since  there  is  but  one  reference  in  the  earlier  dis- 
courses to  Jehovah's  personal  aj^ent  in  tiie  humiliation 
of  his  peo[)le  (iv.  7;  cf.  li.  44,  Num.  xxiii.  24). 

§  111(5.  The  inimediate  elTect  of  the  message  was, 
liowever,  })ractically  nothing  more  than  this,  that  the 
ruling  class,  with  the  king  at  their  liead,  had  now  a 
better  case  than  ever  against  Jeremiah.  To  him  it  ap- 
l»eare(l  more  than  ever  necessary  that  the  people  should 
be  collectively  warned,  and  that  the  real  character  of 
the  im[)ending  danger  should  be  plainly  stated.  The 
national  gatherings  at  the  tem[)le  furnished  the  best 
opportunity,  and  in  those  days  none  were  so  numerously 
attended  as  the  general  fasts.  These  were  not  statutory, 
but  were  conv(tked  by  the  priests,  inuler  the  direction  of 
the  court.  It  was  the  anxiety  and  unrest  of  these  troub- 
lous times  that  prompted  the  people  to  jiropitiate  Jeho- 
vah at  his  shrine.  They  were  pre[»ared  to  listen.  The 
prophet  was  eager  to  speak.  Uut  he  Wiis  now  "  restrainetl  " 
from  appearing  in  the  tem[)le  (Jer.  xxxvi.  5),  probably 
on  account   of   temporary  ceremonial  impurity. ^     Hence 

1  It  is  fair  to  say  that  the  words  alluding  to  Xt-buchadrezzar  in  xxv, 
fl  iire  regarde<l  by  Ilitzi,;;,  Kupiien,  Cornill,  and  others,  as  havini;  been 
taken  over  from  xxvii.  G.  Their  absi-nee  from  the  Sejit.  counts  for 
little  (cf.  note  to  §  1()8"2);  but  they  are  here  introduced  un^'nininiaii- 
cally,  and  may  be  out  of  jilaee.  However,  the  Siime  thing  is  virtually 
.said  in  v.  11,  which  is  ri'taiued  by  Cornill.  The  interesting  (lueslion 
of  the  genuineness  of  other  portions  of  ch.  xxv.  1-1."]  cannot  be  dis- 
cussed here.  See  Schwally,  in  ZATW.  VIII.  177  R.,  who  is  closely 
followed  by  Cornill  in  his  7V.i7  nf  Jirtmi'ih ;  and  cf.  Driver,  /ntr:'' 
p.  270,  272  f.  The  siispected  passages  are  not  necessary  to  the  develoii- 
ment  of  the  story,  and  are  therefore  not  taken  into  account  here.  We 
have,  of  course,  nothing  to  do  at  present  with  what  follows  v.  1.'],  which  js 
a  stiuiiiiary  of  one  or  more  discourses  on  foreign  nations,  and  is  therefore 
in  the  Sept.  tmited  with  the  series  chs.  xlvi.-li,,  being  indeed  separated 
from  vs.  1--1.>  anil  placed  after  ch.  xlviii. 

-  See  W.  K.  Smith,  KS.-  p.  450. 


'    • 


.  I 


200 


DlSCnUUSK    UKAl)    IN    ITHLIC 


Hook  X 


he  committed  his  discourses  to  writing,  hy  the  hand  of 
lianieh,  who  was  also  to  read  them  in  the  hearing  of  the 
people.  His  former  achlresses  wei-e  to  be  also  included 
in  the  volume,  because  they  had  now  become  of  public 
im[)ortance  (Jer.  xxxvi.  1-7). 

§  1117.  This  change  of  form  suggests  one  to  two 
observations.  In  the  tirst  place,  it  was  something  jiew 
in  the  history  of  prophecy  that  the  author  was  not  the 
preacher.  We  have  here  the  beginning  of  the  public 
reading  of  the  Scriptures.  In  this  first  instance  some- 
thing was  both  lost  and  gained  by  the  delegation  to  .another 
of  what  was  once  a  function  of  the  pro[)het.  The  mes- 
sage was  Ijer-'fi  of  the  personal  force  of  the  seer  and  orator. 
On  the  other  hand,  when  it  came  to  the  business  of  read- 
ing instead  <if  si)eaking,  it  was  a[)[)ropriate  that  a  practised 
writer  should  a[)pear  in  a  role  to  which  Jeremiah  was  so 
little  accustomed.  One  whose  strength  lay  in  ai)[)eal, 
invective,  and  warning,  would  be  apt  to  lose  his  power 
over  his  audience  Avhen  obliged  to  present  his  impassioned 
thoughts  in  a  formal  recital.  Moreover,  the  occasion 
was  notable  in  the  literary  history  of  revelation  by  reason 
of  this  change  of  the  form  of  discourse.  Observe  that  the 
discoui-ses  of  Jeremiah,  as  we  have  them,  are  not  unsuit- 
able for  public  reading.  They  are  co[)ious,  often  diffuse, 
and,  as  a  rule,  ex[)ressed  in  the  homely  phrase  that  needs 
no  analysis  to  bring  it  home  to  the  understanding  and  the 
heart.  Contrast  with  this  style  of  prophetic  oratory  the 
discourses  of  the  other  great  prophets  from  Amos  onward. 
These  are  mere  summaries  of  the  spoken  discourses  which 
never  a[»i)eared  in  such  a  form  as  that  given  by  Baruch  to 
the  words  of  his  master. 

§  1118.  As  we  have  seen,  tlie  command  to  write 
was  given  in  »)05  B.C.  There  is  no  record,  liowever, 
of  any  public  reading  during  that  year,  and  we  must 
assume  that  none  took  place  till  December  of  the  next 
year,  the  iifth  of  Jehoiakim  (Jer.  xxxvi.  9).  There  is 
little  doubt  that  the  gatliering  during  which  the  read- 


Cii.  IV,  §  11  lit 


SCKNK   OK    TllK    I.KCTCHK 


201 


ing  took  pliice  was  the  first  iiiitional  fast  that  was  pro- 
chiiined  after  the  eonunand  given  to  liariieh  to  write  down 
the  disconrses.^  The  writing  was  theief(jre  done  earefnlly 
and  deliberately.  The  place  ehoseji  for  the  lectuie 
(xxxvi.  10)  was  one  already  distinguished  by  addi'esses 
to  the  throngs  of  teni[)le  visitors.  Jeremiah  himself  had 
spoken  there  (§  101>2),  and  it  was  close  thereby  that  he 
had  suffered  the  punishment  of  the  stocks  at  the  hands  of 
the  overseer  of  the  tenii)le  (§  1111).^  This  noted  resoit 
was  at  the  northern  and  most  frecjuented  giite  of  the  inner 
temple  court.  Here  the  king's  chancellor,  (iemariah, 
son  of  Sha[)han,  had  an  ollice,  whence  he  could,  in  tlie 
name  of  his  master,  exercise  control  as  far  as  it  might  be 
needed  over  the  public  administration  of  religion.  lie 
and  his  brother  Ahikam  were  protectors  of  Jeremiah;  and 
Barucii  doubtless  felt  a  greater  measure  of  security  in  the 
proximity  of  a  friend  at  court. 

§  1119.  The  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  tlu;  novel  mijde 
of  address,  the  reiterated  challenge  to  the  king  and  ruU'rs 
in  the  announc  ment  of  Nebuchadrezzar's  coming  domina- 
tion, created  a  deep  imi»ressi(»n  among  the  hearers.  A 
son  of  Gemariah,  named  Micaiah,  was  present  to  rejjre- 
sent  the  highest  otliciivl  authority,  while  the  magnates 
themselves,   though   well  aware  of    what   was  going  on, 


I  Our  moilern  versions  and  many  expositors  fail  to  rcpiTsoiit  the  ori,i;i- 
nal  fairly.  In  UV\  a  new  paragraph  begins  with  xxxvi.  !»,  as  thoush  the 
fast  in  ijuestion  were  a  different  tnw  from  that  refeiTed  to  by  Jeremiah  in 
V.  ().  But  tliere  is  no  break  in  the  oriirinal  at  this  point,  and  the  natural 
understanding  of  the  story  must  be  that  Jeremiaii,  at  a  time  several 
months  after  the  connnaud  to  write  (v.  4),  instructed  Rarueh  to  read  at 
the  approaching  fast.  This  injunction  ends  with  v.  7,  and  v.  8  begins  the 
description  of  the  reading  and  the  subsecjuent  ejjisode. 

"  Various  designations  are  given  to  this  gate  of  the  temple  forecourt. 
Tn  xxvi.  10  and  xxxvi.  10  it  is  named  "the  new  gate  of  the  liouse  of 
.leJHivah,"  in  allusion  to  the  fact  that  it  was  built,  or  perliai)s  rather 
rebuilt,  by  Jotham.  Tn  2  K.  xv.  ;55.  where  this  fact  is  recorded,  it  is  called 
"  the  upper  gate,"  while  in  Jer.  xx.  2  it  is  ilesignated  "  the  u])per  gate  of 
lienjamin,"  as  being  on  the  north  side  of  the  temple  area  (cf.  Kz.  viii.  3  ; 
ix.  2).     See  Nowack,  HA.  II,  30  f. 


M 

Mi 

■  h 


m 


i'.  1? 


i 
I.'. 

m 


202 


EFFECT  OF   THE   HEADING 


BookX 


ignored  the  proceedings  by  absenting  themselves.  The 
young  man  was  so  startled  by  the  contents  of  the  roll, 
that  he  deemed  it  his  duty  to  report  them  to  his  father 
and  the  council,  who  were  asseml>led,  jjrobably  in  antici- 
pation of  the  disclosure,  in  the  room  of  the  under-secre- 
tary  Elishama  in  the  royal  palace.  The  result  of  the 
communication  was  that  IJaruch  was  summoned  to  appear 
before  them  in  person  with  his  portentous  volume.  On 
his  arrival  they  bade  him  read  the  document  before  them. 
A  great  consternation  was  the  result  (xxxvi.  11-lG). 

§  1120.  The  king  could  be  kei)t  in  ignorance  no  longer. 
The  princes,  now  cognizant  of  the  manifesto,  would  be 
held  guilty  of  treason  if  they  failed  to  report.  They 
dreaded  tlie  consequences  to  Jeremiah,  whom  some  of 
them  regarded  with  superstitious  fear  and  some  with 
profound  regard.  Hence  they  bade  Baruch  see  to  it  that 
he  and  Jeremiah  hide  themselves  with  all  possible  secrecy. 
Then  they  repaired  to  tlie  northern  side  of  the  court  quad- 
rangle where  lay  the  suite  of  rooms  set  apart  for  the  winter 
residence  of  the  king  (cf.  Am.  iii.  15).  Here  Jehoiakim 
was  found  sitting  before  a  tire  of  coals  that  was  burning 
in  the  brazier  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  They  did  nut 
bring  the  roll  with  them,  but  laid  it  by  in  the  secretary's 
oilice,  hoping  that  tlie  king  would  be  content  with  an  oral 
report.  When  this  had  been  given  he  demanded  that  the 
roll  be  brought  and  read  in  his  presence.  The  eli'cct 
vipon  Jehoiakim  of  the  reading  was  even  woi'se  than  tlic 
courtiers  had  feared.  Not  more  than  three  or  four  pages ^ 
had  been  read  when  he  seized  the  manuscript,  and  taking 
the  secretary's  pen-knife,  cut  it  into  fragments  and  threw 
them  on  the  fire  till  they  Avere  entirely  consumed,  (iema- 
riah  and  two  others  had  appealed  to  the  king  not  to  com- 
mit the  sacrilege,  but  after  the  deed  had  been  done  all 


1  Literally  "doors,"  that  is,  the  iTctan^ailar  columns  into  whii'li  the 
inaimscript  was  divicU'd,  the  successive  lines  of  each  pa.ue  beiuij;  written 
parallel  to  the  length  of  the  roll.  The  material  in  this  instance  was  prob- 
ably papyrus. 


Ch.  IV',  §  1122         JERKMIAII   AND  JEIIOIAKIM 


203 


the  by-standers,  dreading  the  royal  displeasure,  refrained 
from  any  expression  of  horror  or  dismay  (xxxvi.  17-24). 

§  1121.  The  reverenee  for  the  person  and  otliee  of 
Jeremiah  entertained  by  some  of  the  principal  nobles  was 
thus  offset  by  the  reckless  impiety  and  petulance  of  the 
king,  who,  we  may  be  sure,  was  sup[)orted  in  his  attitude 
by  many,  probably  most,  of  his  advisers.^  But  even  in 
Jehoiakim  we  notice  a  change  of  policy  toward  Jeremiah. 
When  the  leader  of  the  independent  prophets  had  made 
his  previous  harangue  beside  the  court  of  the  temple 
(§  1092)  the  protection  of  Ahikam  suihced  to  safeguard 
him.  Now,  however,  the  command  went  forth  that  Jere- 
miah must  be  put  to  death.  lie  hid  himself  to  save  his 
life,  and  the  secret  of  his  hiding-place  was  faithfully  kept. 

§  1122.  Such  an  edict  was  in  keeping  with  the  harsh- 
ness and  moral  insensibility  that  marked  Jehoiakim.  Jere- 
miah himself  has  recorded  his  reputation  for  injustice, 
greed,  and  selfish  luxuriousness  (xxii.  13  ff.).  Like  all 
covetous  men  he  was  essentially  irreligious.  He  disliked 
extreme  opinions,  and  as  he  had  a  lofty  conception  of  his 
kingly  rights,  he  was  determined  to  put  down  all  agitation 
that  would  make  government  troublesome.  'J'hough  idola- 
try flourished  under  him,  he  was  no  innovator  in  matters 
of  faith  and  worship  like  Ahaz  or  Manasseh.^  Indeed  all 
the  successors  of  Josiah,  young  men  and  immature  and 
anything  but  statesmanlike,  were  rather  opportunists  and 
time-servers  than  radical  sul)verters  of  the  time-honored 
theocratic  institutions.  Jehoiakim  simply  adapted  him- 
self to  the  ruling  conditions.  He  found  that  the  p()i»ul;ir 
type   of   religion    now  established   by   prevailing   usage, 

1  Not,  however,  in  his  burnini;  of  the  roll.  One  of  them,  who  was  the 
kin<;'s  instrument  in  the  execution  of  Uriah  (Jcr.  xxvi.  22  f.,  §  lOlti'), 
namely,  Klnathan,  son  of  Aelibnr,  joined  with  tiemariah  in  imploring  tho 
king  not  to  do  such  a  perilous  thinj,'. 

2  Notire  that  tiie  invasion  of  .fudah  hy  Nebuchadrezzar  and  his  irregu- 
lar auxiliaries  (§  1078)  is  declared  to  have  been  a  chastisement  broui;lit 
upon  tiu!  land  on  account  of  the  sins  of  .Manasseli  (2  K.  xxiv.  ;]  f.),  not 
uf  Jcliuiukim,  under  wlium  tliu  calamity  \Viu>  ciiuurtd. 


il 


i 


''  1' 
1     ' 

I;.-!' 

,  Mr 

P. 


ITT 
! 


204 


THE   KING  AND   THE  TOLITJCIANS 


Book  X 


suited  best  the  mass  of  his  suhjects,  made  the  kingdom 
more  congenial  to  the  neighbouring  states,  and  most  easily 
satisfied  the  cliques  of  priests,  prophets,  diviners,  and  their 
parasites,  who,  with  the  decline  of  the  kingdom  and  the 
curtailed  jurisdiction  of  the  civil  authorities,  tended  more 
and  more  to  become  the  dominant  element  in  the  state. 
Hence  he  favoured  the  concurrent  exercise  of  all  prescrip- 
tive modes  of  worshij),  and  comi)romised  Jehovah's  pre- 
rogative all  the  more  willingly  because  of  the  reaction  that 
was  in  progress  against  Josiah's  reformation.  A  similar 
temper  seems  to  have  governed  his  general  publii;  policy. 
He  accepted  the  yoke  of  JOgypt,  and  wore  it  after  the 
sceptre  of  Syria  had  passed  from  that  ambitious  monarch. 
He  exchanged  it  for  the  yoke  of  l}al)ylon  without  making 
any  useless  resistance.  And  yet  he  was  iinally  cajoled 
into  a  fatuous  rebellion  against  his  all-powerful  suzerain. 
§  1128.  [Moreover,  it  was  Jeremiah's  ])ersistence  in  pro- 
claiming the  ap[)r<)ach  of  Nebuchadrezzar  that  made  Jehoi- 
akim  his  open  and  implacable  foe.  With  the  king  went 
the  majority  of  the  nobles  and  princes,  who  now  found 
themselves  united  with  the  priesthood  in  opposing  the 
alleged  betra^'er  of  his  country.  One  cannot  entirely 
condemn  the  attitude  of  the  politicians,  who  were  doubt- 
less aiumated  ])y  intense  though  mistaken  patriotism. 
But  they  would  have  had  more  sympathy  from  the 
prophet  himself  as  well  as  from  the  after-AVorkl  if  their 
course  had  been  more  open  and  independent ;  for  the  great 
question  with  them  was  how  they  should  [)lay  their  part  as 
between  the  op[)osing  forces  of  the  Chahheans  and  Egyj)- 
tians.  They  held  that  the  power  to  be  deferred  to  in  tiie 
meanwhile  was  Egypt,  which  was  still  the  nominal  suzerain 
of  Palestine.  Hut  the  battle  of  Carchemish  had  shown 
that  its  control  was  precarious  at  best,  and  the  time  might 
soon  come  when  the  practical  question  would  be  how 
best  to  conciliate  the  victorious  ChahUeans.  Meanwhile 
a  waiting  policy  was  maintained,  with  a  leaning  toward 
Egypt  as  the  nearest  power  and  the  one  in  present  posses- 


^^^^vm^^mit 


Cii.  IV,  §  1125     THE   PHOPIIET'S  TWOFOLD   LIFE 


205 


sioii.  'J'he  iittitude  of  Jeremiali,  avIio,  iimonjr  men  of  lend- 
ing, was  almost  alone  in  the  contrary  opinion,  and  who  at 
the  same  time  placed  the  stigma  of  impiety  and  wicked- 
ness n[)on  all  who  did  not  agree  with  him,  must  have  been 
exasperating  in  the  extreme  to  the  heads  of  the  state. 
They  were  willing  to  tolerate  his  prophesying,  as  the  \n-v- 
scriptive  privilege  and  (;raft  of  his  order  ;  hut  it  was  (juile 
a  different  matter  to  let  his  words  steal  away  the  hearts 
of  the  fighting  men,  weaken  the  liands  of  the  leaders,  and 
bring  shame  and  confusion  to  Israel. 

§  11"24.  This  irreconcilable  antagonism  remained  to 
the  end.  At  critical  periods  the  errors  and  recklessness 
of  the  king  and  his  counsellors  provoked  tlu;  indignation 
of  the  pro[)het,  and  denunciations  and  thrcatenings  were 
poured  upon  the  heads  of  the  delin(inents.  Hut  Jere- 
miah's career  was  not  one  of  unbroken  warfare  witii  the 
chiefs  of  the  i)eoi)le.  During  his  interdiction  from  public 
speecli  (§  11:21)  his  disquieted  soul  found  other  means  of 
expression.  The  stream  was  as  strong  and  full  as  ever, 
but  instead  of  wearing  away  or  tearing  down  the  banks 
it  deepened  its  channel  or  broke  tunndtuously  upon  the 
hidden  rocks.  The  section,  chs,  xiv.-xvii.,  gives  a  partial 
record  of  his  utterances  and  rellections  during  this  jx-riod 
which  apparently  extended  nearly  to  the  death  of  .Jehoia- 
kim.  If  our  chronoh)gical  data  arc  correct,  the  dreaded 
Nebuchadrezzar  did  come  upon  the  laml  within  a  few 
months  of  the  pul)lic  announcement  (§  lOTo).  'J'hi'u 
Jehoiakinj  sultmitted  to  the  Chalda'an  yoke. 

§  1125.  Along  with  this  humiliation  came  other  trou- 
bles of  national  magnitude.  Chief  among  these  was  a 
terrible  drought  (.ler.  xiv.  l-O)  which  Jeri'miah  intcr- 
j)reted  as  a  token  of  Jehovah's  dis[)U'asurc  an<l  for  whose 
removal  he  intercedes  in  tlu!  most  piteous  terms  (  xiv.  7  !•). 
Hear  how  this  ^  Israelite!  indeed"  (cf.  Amos  vii.  -,  o) 
pleads  for  his  country  with  his  (Jod!  "Oh,  Thou,  the 
hope  of  Israel,  and  its  saviour  in  the  time  of  distress! 
Whv  shouldst  thou  be  like  a  sojourner  in  the  land,  or  as 


;■  'I 

i    .  ;    ■ 


V  M 


w 


206 


DIALOGUE   WITH  JEHOVAH 


Book  X 


a  traveller  who  lias  turned  aside  for  a  night's  lodging  ?  "  * 
(v.  8).  The  interview  with  Jehovah  now  becomes  a  dia- 
logue —  a  passage  peculiarly  valuable  for  the  psychologi- 
cal study  of  the  mode  and  process  of  prophecy.  It  is  the 
very  centre  and  heart  of  the  book  of  Jeremiah.  In  it  the 
motives  of  his  life  and  work  appear  in  vivid  contrast  with 
the  spirit  and  conduct  of  his  professional  rivals,  while  the 
interests  at  stake  in  the  contest  are  brought  out  in  excep- 
tionally dramatic  form.  The  outlook  for  himself  and  his 
mission  was  of  the  darkest,  but  no  darker  than  the  pros- 
pect which  lay  before  his  country.  And  here  he  was  in 
hiding,  helpless  and  mute,  thrown  back  upon  himself,  or 
ravhcr  upon  his  God.  The  fire  within  him  burns  so  that 
L:  ."  irds  seem  to  be  finshed  upon  the  page  in  letters  of 
tiauio.  Jehovah  renounces  his  people  :  their  fastings  and 
]>rayers  and  oblations  are  of  no  avail.  He  forbids  his  and 
tiiel;  own  wwe  messenger  to  intercede  for  them;  their 
l)ortion  is  deaiii  by  sword  and  famine  and  pestilence  (xiv. 
10-12).  Jeremiah  replies:  "Alas,  Lord  Jehovah  I  the 
prophets  are  saying  to  them  :  ye  shall  not  see  the  sword, 
and  ye  shall  not  suffer  fanune,  for  I  will  give  you  sure 
prosperity  in  this  place"  (xiv.  18).  To  this  Jehovali 
rejoins  that  the  prophets  have  given  a  lying  message,  that 
tbey  shall  perish  by  that  very  sword  and  famine  which 
they  have  decried,  and  that  tlie  people  whom  they  have 
deceived  shall  share  their  fate  (xiv.  14-18). 

§  11 2().  Jeremiah,  however,  need  not  reproach  himself 
with  failure,  though  his  people  perish  in  disobedience  and 
impiety  ;  for  Jehovah  continues  :  "If  Moses  and  Samuel 
were  to  stand  before  me   (l*s.   xcix.  G)   my  soul  would 

1  Tlipre  is  a  twofold  inpaninu;  here.  In  the  first  place,  this  was  Jeho- 
vah's own  land,  and  he  was  inseparable  from  it  (§  581).  Hence  the  very 
tie  of  nature  seemed  to  be  broken  by  his  disregard.  In  the  second  i)lace, 
it  was  the  function  of  Jehovah  to  ji;ive  rain  (Ts.  Ixv.  9  ff.,  civ.  l;{  ff.),  and 
not  of  the  Raal,  whom  the  people  of  Canaan  looked  upon  as  the  fertilizer 
of  the  land  and  especially  as  the  rain-giver  (Smith,  HS.2  p.  100  ff.).  Cf. 
xiv.  22,  where  this  i)rerogative  is  denied  to  "  the  vanities  of  the  nations'* 
and  the  powers  of  the  heavens. 


Cii.  IV,  §1120        THE   ANCIIOU  OF  THE   SOUL 


207 


not  turn  toward  them :  send  tliem  out  of  my  presence 
and  let  them  depart  .  .  .  those  tliat  are  doomed  to  the 
pestilence,  to  the  pestilence  ;  tliose  that  are  doomed  to 
the  sword,  to  the  sword ;  those  that  are  doomed  to  the 
famine,  to  famine  ;  those  that  are  doomed  to  captivity, 
to  captivity  .  .  .  because  of  Manasseli,  son  of  Ilezekiiih, 
king-  of  Judah,  for  what  he  did  in  Jerusalem.  For  who 
will  have  compassion  on  thee,  O  Jerusalem?  and  who 
will  bemoan  thee?  and  who  will  turn  aside  to  ask  for  thy 
welfare?  .  .  .  Thou  hast  rejected  me,  saith  Jehovah, 
going  away  backwards,  and  I  have  stretched  oat  my  hand 
against  thee,  and  have  given  thee  to  destruction.  1  am 
weary  of  repenting  .  .  ."  (xv.  1-9).  'J'he  dialogue  ends 
with  strong  words  of  comfort.  And  thus  he  fared  in  many 
a  terrible  struggle  into  which  he  fell  after  iiuictivity  had 
been  forced  upon  him,  and  liis  work  seemed  worse  than 
vain,  —  wlien  he  was  a  shunned  and  hated  man,  haunted 
by  tlie  m3'stery  of  the  fate  that  made  him,  against  his 
will  and  his  very  nature,  ''a  \m\n  of  strife  and  conten- 
tion with  all  the  earth"  (xv.  10);  persecuted  for  the 
cause  of  Jehovah  liimself,  whose  words  were  the  joy  and 
gladness  of  his  lieart  ^  (xv.  15  f.)  ;  a  lonely  man  shut  out 
from  the  cheerful  ways  of  men  (xv.  17)  ;  whose  pain  was 
perpetual  and  his  wound  incurable  ;  deserted  even  by  his 
God,  who  seemed  to  him  like  tlie  vanishing  waters  of  a 
summer  brook  sought  in  vain  by  the  thirsty  traveller 
(xv.  18).  Wliat  he  anchored  his  storm-driven  soul  to 
at  last  was  tlie  assurance  that  Jehovali  had  not  really 
deserted  him  or  disowned  his  work  :  "If  tliou  M'ilt  stand 
before  me  again,  I  will  let  thee  stand  before  me,^  and  if 

1  V.s.  12-14  are  (jiiite  I'uroiuni  to  this  otherwise  closely  connected  dis- 
course and  evidiMitly  beloii;;  elsewhere.  \'s.  i;],  14  are  niutihited  from 
xvii.  .'5,  4.  V.  12  is  in  the  manner  of  Jeremiah,  but  il  is  dilliouit  to  know 
where  it  should  he  placed.  V.  11  anticipates  vs.  10-21,  but  spoils  the 
beauty  of  this  nnicpie  discourse  in  the  place  where  it  stands.  It  is  perhaps 
best  with  Cornill  to  exscind  vs.  11-14  entirely. 

2  For  the  construction,  see  Kiiuig,  S^iUajc  dcr  hchrlUschen  Sprache, 
§  301  ?H.,  and  his  index  of  passages. 


I   « 


W^ 


ufHi 


'ii.iifi 


Mi 


!| 


vr 


•208 


THE    L(JNELY   I'KCJl'llET 


Book  X 


thou  wilt  bring  out  tlie  precious  from  the  worthk'ss,Uliou 
Hhalt  be  my  mouth-piece,  and  thy  enemies  sliall  resort  to 
thee  ((len.  iii.  10;  iv.  7)  and  not  tliou  to  them.  And  I 
shall  make  thee  for  this  people  an  impassable  wall  of 
bronze,  and  when  they  fight  against  thee  they  shall  not 
prevail  against  thoe  ;  for  I  am  with  thee  to  j)reserve  and 
to  <leliver  thee,  saith  Jehovah  .   .   ."  (xv.  19-21). 

§  1127.  Still  deeper  must  the  prophet  go  into  tlie 
valley  of  deep  darkness  in  the  fullilment  of  his  media- 
torial ministry.  He  had  served  his  i)eople  as  teacher, 
monitor,  accuser,  and  intercessor.  Now  he  must  in  his 
own  person  and  fate  symbolize  their  ruin,  their  reproba- 
tion, and  their  ahandoinuent  by  Jehovali.  As  fathers  and 
mothers  were  everywhere  to  be  made  childless,  and  chil- 
dren made  orphans,  by  the  sword  and  famine  and  pesti- 
lence, so  he  in  his  personal  experience  must  forego  the 
hope  of  domestic  joy,  the  love  and  sol.ice  of  wife  and 
•child.  Not  for  himself  alone  did  he  remain  through  life 
.a  singular  solitary  man  :  the  bareness  and  isolation  of  las 
lot  nnist  recall  to  him  the  grief  and  desolation  of  unnum- 
bered homes  visited  by  the  angel  of  death  (xvi.  1-4). 
For  any  who  should  die  —  even  for  his  own  nearest  and 

•  dearest  —  he  should  forbear  to  grieve,  keeping  fur  away 
from  the  stricken  house  and  the  circle  of  mourners.  In 
the  day  of  Israel's  calamity,  the  dead  should  be  so  many 
that  the  wonted  tokens  of  sorrow  would  be  discarded  ;  all 
kindly  ollicics  and  all  compassion  would  go  out  of  use, 
because  (Jod's  "peace"  would  be  cancelled  in  the  land 
(xvi.  0-7).  Nor  must  he  enter  the  house  of  feasting.  How 
can  he  feast  and  make  merry  when  the  voice  of  niirtli 
and  of  gladness,  the  voice  of  tlie  bridegi'oom  and  of  th(! 

1  The  expression  is  a  presuant  one  :  briiif^  out  the  f^old  from  tlie  base 
metal  so  as  to  separate  the  two.  Jeremiah  is  admonished  that  steadfast 
.  adherence  to  the  rifihtful  moral  principle  of  God's  government,  and  abso- 
lute reliance  upon  Ilim,  are  the  conditions  of  liis  service.  The  •'  precious  " 
is  the  will  and  the  truth  of  God;  the  "worthless'"  is  all  that  tends  to 
obscure  or  lielittlc  them,  inchidinj^  the  prophet's  own  repining  and  want 

•  of  perfect  faith.     We  thus  learn  Jeremiah's  ideal  of  duty. 


iff^flK-RCI.."....l». .. 


•WVJNMW^-' 


m 


Cii.  IV,  §  1127 


THE   FINAL   I'UOTKST 


20» 


bride,  are  heard  no  more  ?  (xvi.  8,  9  ;  cf.  xv.  17).  Af^ain, 
the  evil  is  traced  to  its  source  (xvi.  10-12  ;  xvii.  1,  2) 
and  the  doom  of  banishment  pronounced  (xvi.  13)  with 
all  the  accompanying  miseries  "  (xvi.  lG-18  ;  xvii.  3,  4)  i. 
Then  the  pro[)het,  more  humble  than  ever  toward  (lod 
and  sterner  than  ever  toward  his  rivals  and  persecutors, 
prays  tliat  his  wdunded  spirit  may  be  healed  and  his  safety 
made  sure,  ^/hile  with  proud  Immility  he  protests  the  sin- 
gleness and  i)urity  of  his  purpose  and  desire  :  "  As  for  me, 
I  liave  not  luisted  away  from  following  Thee  as  shei)lierd, 
nor  have  I  desired  the  desperate  day  :  ^  Thou  knowest  it ; 
what  my  lips  uttered  came  straight  before  thee "  (xvii. 
14-18). 

^  No  attempt  is  made  here  to  bring  into  consistency  with  the  discourse 
oh.  xvi.  14,  IS  ;  xvii.  5-115,  whicli  interrupt  the  connection,  though  they 
are  the  thouglit  and  expression  of  Jeremiah. 

2  Literally,  "  the  incurably  sick  day  "  ;  like  the  Homeric  6\idpiov  ^Ma/>> 
.v-qKeh  rjnap,  etc.     Cf.,  for  the  epithet,  xv.  18,  xxx.  12,  15;  Isa.  xvii.  11. 


ni 


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I-  •*■■  ■ 


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'^H 

m- 


CHAPTER  V 


HABAKKUK  AND  THE  CHALD^EANS 


m 


§  1128.  Habakkuk  is  reckoned  a  star  of  the  second 
magnitude  in  the  firmament  of  Hebrew  literature,  yet  he 
shines  with  a  splendid  radiance  all  his  own.  Only  the 
brevity  of  his  work  precludes  him  from  a  place  in  prophecy 
beside  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah.  His  little  book  is  unique 
among  tlie  proplietic  writings  in  its  perfection  of  form. 
It  is  at  the  same  time  all  aglow  with  life  and  energy,  and 
fascinates  us  with  its  various  beauty.  In  its  combination 
of  grace  and  strength  it  is  equally  rare  and  admirable. 
In  its  harmonious  union  of  passion  and  reflectiveness  it  is 
unrivalled  in  all  Biblical  literature.  INIoreover,  it  is  the 
most  suggestive  of  all  prophetic  poems.  Few  composi- 
tions of  the  Old  Testament  are  so  closely  packed  with 
educative  thought.  Amos  and  Isaiali  are  the  only  com- 
peers of  Habakkuk  as  interpreters  of  events,  as  masters 
of  the  Hebrew  philosophy  of  history.  Intellectually  he 
is  chiefly  distinguished  by  largeness  of  view ;  morally 
by  his  impartial  sense  of  right  and  justice,  in  which  he 
has  a  close  kinship  with  the  writer  of  the  book  of  Job 
and  with  Jeremiah.  Perhaps  no  other  poem  of  equal 
length  has  a  range  of  vision  so  wide  and  so  lofty.  Jeho- 
vah's immortality,  his  purity,  his  supreme  exaltation, 
his  general  and  special  providence,  his  control  of  the 
nations,  his  consistency  and  veracity  among  the  paradoxes 
of  history,  his  justice  and  zeal  in  the  judgment  of  oppressors 
and  in  the  vindication  of  his  servants ;  the  essential  per- 
sonal character  of  national  and  corporate  sin  ;  the  function 

210 


■ 


Cii.  V,  §  1130 


TIIKMK   OF   IIABAKKUK 


211 


of  the  workl-powera  as  moral  scourges ;  the  sellishiiess 
and  wrong  of  oppression,  its  crime  against  struggling 
humanity,  its  futility  when  matched  against  the  retribu- 
tive justice  of  Jehovah,  its  self-destructiveness ;  the  secu- 
rity afforded  by  steadfastness  and  rectitude  ;  the  serene 
confidence  and  joy  that  only  trust  in  Jehovah  can  give  — 
these  are  the  themes  that  are  suggested  or  elaborated  in 
this  incomparable  poem. 

§  1129.  With  all  the  variety  of  subject-matter  the 
propliecy  of  Habakkuk  is  a  unit ;  the  unifying  interest 
being  its  great  theme,  the  Ciialdtean  power.  In  this  sin- 
gleness of  view  there  is  a  remarkable  parallel  with  the 
j)i'()[)heey  of  Nahum,  whose  exclusive*  attention  to  the  fall 
of  Nineveh  we  have  already  considered  (§  831).  Jt  is 
significant  that  these  two  brief  C(jmi)ositions,  which  resem- 
ble one  another  so  greatly  in  general  literary  type  and 
in  moral  })urpose,  should  deal  with  the  character  and 
career  of  those  two  nationalities  which  most  decisively 
determined  the  fate  of  Israel.  Their  similarity  in  theme 
and  plan  and  style,  as  well  as  in  mental  and  moral  atti- 
tude toward  the  problems  before  them,  make  it  probable 
that  one  production  influenced  the  other.  Nahum  wrote 
very  shortly  before  the  fall  of  Nineveh,  and  it  will  appear 
(§  1137)  that  Habakkuk  composed  his  prophecy  within 
tlie  next  decade. 

§  1130.  The  theme  of  Habakkuk  is  the  i)art  and  place 
of  the  Chaldieans  in  the  order  of  Providence  and  in  the 
discipline  of  Israel.  The  foundation  of  his  argument  is 
the  eternal  postulate  that  sin  must  be  punished  by  suffer- 
ing. He  starts  out  by  boldly  inquiring  why  Jehovah 
shuts  his  eyes  to  the  notorious  and  flagrant  wrong-doing 
and  oppression  that  are  rife  in  the  land.  "  The  oracle  is 
torpid,  and  justice  never  comes  to  light ;  for  the  wicked 
encompass  the  righteous,  and  therefore  justice  comes  forth 
awry"  (i.  2-4).  The  poet  now  brings  Jehovah  upon 
the  arena  with  the  reply :  "  Look  ye  among  the  nations, 
and  consider,  and  wonder  greatly,  for  I  am  to  do  a  work 


■I. 


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i! 


i 

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f::^ 

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1 

1  J  i 

ii 

V 


IT 


212 


PIIOULEM   OF  THK   CllALD^KANS 


Hook  X 


>•  { 


ft- 


ill  your  days  which  ye  shall  not  credit  when  it  is  told. 
For,  behold,  I  am  bringinf^  up  the  C'hahheaiis,  that  fiente 
and  impetuous  Jiation  that  marches  over  tiie  breadth  of 
the  earth  to  take  possession  of  dwelling-places  not  its  own. 
They  are  fearsome  and  terrible.  1'heir  right  and  their 
might'  come  from  themselves  alone.  Their  hors"<  are 
swifter   than    leopaids   and   liercer    than   wolves  le 

desert ;  their  war-steeds  gallop  as  they  come  from  afar, 
flying  like  the  vulture  that  hastens  to  devour.  Every  one 
of  them  comes  for  outrage  ;  their  faces  are  set  straight 
forward,  and  they  gather  captives  as  the  sand.  They 
have  a  contempt  for  kings,  and  princes  are  their  sport. 
They  scorn  every  kind  of  fortress  ;  they  raise  earthworks 
and  capture  it"  (vs.  o-lO). 

§  1131.  Thus  far  the  Chahheans  appear  as  instruments 
of  Jehovah's  punitive  justice.  IJut  the  prophet  is  too 
clear-sighted  as  well  as  too  patriotic  to  be  satisfied  with 
judgment  upon  the  transgressors  in  Israel.  It  is  not 
because  his  own  people  are  worse  than  the  Clui^  ;ins 
that  they  receive  from  Babylon  this  chastisement.  v ; 

as  compared  with  the  true  Israel,  these  foreigners  are  the 
most  flagrant  of  offenders.  His  sense  of  justice  now 
challenges  Jehovah  again  with  e(|ual  boldness,  as  the  suc- 
cessful impiety  of  the  conquering  nation  rises  before  his 
imagination.  "And  then  he  rushes  like  the  wind  and 
passes  on;  but  he  is  guilty  —  he  whose  god  is  his  own 
strength.  Art  Thou  not  from  of  old,  Jehovah  my  Ciod, 
Thou  holy  one  of  Israel?  Thou^  dost  not  die.  Thoii, 
Jehovah,  hast  set  him  here  for  judgment,  and  as  a  stone 
of  chastening  (cf.  Isa.  viii.  14)  hast  Thou  founded  him. 
Too  pure  of  eyes  Thou  to  behold  iniquity,  and  who  canst 
not  look  upon  evil,  why  di^st  Thou  look  upon  trans- 
gressors and  keep  silence,  while  the  wicked  are  devouring 
men  more  righteous  than  themselves?"  (i.  11-18).     The 

1  More  exactly,  "  their  prerojiative  and  tlieir  exaltation." 
-  This  an<l  a  few  other  needed  emendations  are  here  made  without 
special  cummeut. 


J 


e 


Cii,  V.  §  ii.');{ 


TIIK    MoltAI-   SOMTInN 


•J13 


poet  here  iini)lie.s  that  Jehovah,  whose  eveilastinj^uess  is 
hilt  the  proof  and  synihol  of  his  rit,'hteousness  and  faith- 
fulness has  nuuh'  it  phiin  that  the  mission  of  the  C'hal- 
«Ueaiis  is  to  test  and  sift  Israel.  Hut  still  the  puzzle 
renniins  how  their  triiunphant  impiety  can  lie  tolerated  hy 
the  (iod  of  innate  purity,  lie  then  goes  on  to  say  that 
men,  who  have  bi'eii  created  l»y  .lehovah  as  numerous  and 
yet  as  unprotected  as  the  lish  of  the  sea  or  the  creeping 
things  of  the  earth,  have  been  want(»nly  snarecl  hy  the 
Chahhean.  l^lated  hy  his  success  and  impunity,  the 
spoiler  makes  an  idol  of  his  own  huge  drag-net,  and  con- 
tinues to  seize  and  slay  his  defenceless  victims  (i.  14-17). 

§  \\']2.  In  search  of  a  iiioial  interpretation  of  these 
para(h)xes  the  juophct  n.'sorts  to  his  watch-tower,  ^^uly 
thence  can  he  discern  the  far  horizon  where  the  earthly' 
hlends  with  tlii^  heavenly  without  a  break  in  the  line  of 
vision.  "At  mv  post  will  I  stand,  and  take  mv  station 
on  the  watch-tower;  and  1  will  look  out  to  see  what  he 
will  s[)eak  to  me  and  what  reply  he  will  make  tf)  my 
arirument.  And  Jehovah  answered  me  and  said:  'Write 
(h)wn  the  vision  and  make  it  jtlain  upon  the  tal)lets,  so 
that  one  may  run  while  leading  it.  For  the  vision  is  yet 
to  come  to  pass  in  its  time,  it  hastens  toward  the  con- 
summation, and  shall  not  belie  itself,  if  it  lingers,  wait 
patiently,  for  it  shall  surely  come  and  shall  not  be 
deferred.  As  to  the  faint-hearte<l.^  his  soul  is  not  right 
within  him;  but  the  righteous  shall  survive  by  his  stead- 
fastness '  "  (ii.  1-4). 

§  1133.  It  is,  then,  the  revival  of  faith  and  confidence 
in  the  prophet's  own  soul  that  gives  him  the  answer.  It 
is  his  own  steadfastness   and  fidelity^  that  carries  him 


1  I  follow  nn'(l('iikani[),  n^i"-^  t"i'  ^2"'V  ^-''-  I'  i-^  want  of  steady  trust  in 
.TeliDvah  that  makes  the  "vision."'  or  the  expected  solution  of  the  (,'hal- 
diean  puzzle,  appear  a  delusion  and  disai)pointnient.  The  steadfastness 
that  bears  a  man  up  is  the  property  of  the  ••riiihteoii.s." 

2  This  is  the  Old  Testament  vwdcrTaan  of  thinu's  hojied  for  (Ilebr.  xi.  1), 
the  basis  and  potency  of  the  New  Testament  '"faith."  The  quotation  of 
the  verse  in  llebr.  x.  :)8  is  thus  justified,     ("f.  §0«>2,  1008.  note. 


III 


i 

t      ■ 

<       i 

''  '  i 

!l' 


rr 


214 


FUTILITY   OF  THE   CHALDyl-:ANS 


Book  X 


'<!:! 


\'i:   ,!1 


through  the  crisis  of  trial.  This  inw.ard  process  of  self- 
renewal,  this  readjustment  of  his  relations  to  Jehovah,  is 
part  of  the  life  of  the  true  prophet.  Such  a  solution  of 
the  problem  is  subjective,  but  it  is  none  the  iess  sure  Jind 
real.  Coming  as  it  did  on  the  verge  of  Israel's  last  great 
national  struggle,  it  became  the  watchword  of  the  faithful 
then,  and  forever  thereafter.  Just  because  it  so  reveals 
the  impulse  and  motive  of  the  religion  of  Israel,  it  is  the 
vital  centre  of  the  Old  Testament.  Here  we  can  place 
our  finger  upon  the  heart  of  Israel  and  feel  it  beat.  This 
text  must  be  the  starting-point  of  our  study  of  biblical 
theology;  for  the  saving  truth  of  olden  time  was  a  vision, 
born  in  the  life  and  death  struggle  of  individual  souls. 

§  1134.  When  this  has  been  said  there  is  no  need  of 
further  i)erplexing  thought.  In  imagination  the  prophet 
has  already  overborne  the  crisis.  lie  sees  clearly  now 
the  essentially  futile  character  of  the  Chaldaian  regime, 
and  the  rest  of  his  vision  is  devoted  to  chariicterizing  it. 
It  is  so  essentially  and  variously  bad,  that  it  will  work 
out  its  own  punishment  in  a  series  of  terrible  revenges. 
As  llabakkuk  always  sees  historic  events  and  processes  in 
mental  images,  the  records  of  which  are  a  sort  of  half-tone 
reproduction,  we  must  not  look  for  descriptions,  but 
poetic  pictures,  in  which  sentiments,  hints,  suggestions, 
side-lights  and  flashes  of  truth  take  the  place  of  accurate 
delineation.  They  are,  for  that  very  reason,  all  the  more 
instructive,  for  what  they  lack  in  exactness  they  gain  in 
depth  and  power,  since  the  illustrations  employed  are  not 
the  naked  facts  of  iiistory,  but  essential  ])rincii)les  of 
Jehovah's  moral  government.  A  mere  summary  of  the 
remainder  of  the  pro^jhecy  will  suffice  now  that  the  main 
thesis  has  been  established. 

§  1135.  The  poet  having  already  (i.  6  ff.)  set  forth 
the  irresistible  force  of  the  Chaldteans  in  the  impending 
conquest  of  Israel,  turns  now  to  their  general  policy  of 
aggression  and  spoliation  which  is  to  meet  its  well- 
deserved  and  inevitable  doom.     This  is  hit  oft"  in  a  preg- 


Cii.  V,  §  1136 


A   TUIUMPHAKIT  ENDING 


215 


nant  sentence  or  two:  "He  is  treacherous  like  wine, Mi 
turbulent  and  restless  wight,  who  has  enlarged  his  appe- 
tite like  Sheol;  he  is  insatiable  like  death;  he  draws  to 
himself  all  the  nations  and  gathers  to  himself  all  the 
peoples."  Having  given  the  moral  key  to  the  situation, 
the  poet  now  disregards,  characteristically,  the  details  of 
the  Chaldtean  decadence,  and  produces  tlie  climax  of 
rhetorical  effect  by  bringing  upon  the  scene,  like  the 
assessors  of  a  Roman  court  of  justice,  the  nations  them- 
selves that  now  lie  prostrate  under  the  feet  of  the  op- 
pressor. Through  their  mouths  he  utters  a  series  of 
epigrams  containing  the  gist  of  the  moral  case  against  the 
Chaldaian  power,  and  connecting  with  each  of  the  charges 
the  announcement  of  doom  (ii.  G-20). 

§  1136.  If  the  closing  chapter  of  the  book  was  written 
by  Habakkuk  himself,'^  the  sublime  theophany  which  takes 
up  most  of  it  is  appropriate  to  the  occasion  of  the  prophecy 
as  a  whole.  By  such  ap[)earances  of  Jehovah  in  the  glory 
of  his  power,  bending  all  the  powers  of  nature  to  his  ser- 
vice, prophets  and  poets  habitually  rei)resent  {e.fj.  Ps. 
xviii.)  his  intervention  in  behalf  of  his  suffering  people. 
No  crisis  more  worthy  of  divine  interposition  had  ever 
occurred  in  the  history  of  Israel ;  for  the  faithful  few  whose 
destruction  was  thus  threatened  were  the  forlorn  hope 
of  the  kingdom  of  God  upon  earth.  Even  the  closing 
passage,  the  serenest  and  most  victorious  in  all  [jrophetic 
})oetry,  is  consistent  with  the  main  idea  of  the  book. 
The  absolute  trust  in  Jehovah  here  exem[)liru!d  is  the  best 
illustration  of  the  central  truth,  which  is,  after  all,  a  fact 

i  I  have  retiiined  substantiiiUy  this  expression  of  the  received  text,  Imt 
its  connection  is  very  doubtful,  and,  without  a  slight  emendation  of  tlio 
introductory  words,  quite  unintcllisihle. 

2  It  is  tliouglit  by  many  to  be  post-exilic.  But  the  lanjiuape  is  not  of 
the  distinctly  later  type,  and  the  only  arRunients  of  wi'ij,'lit  are  based 
upon  the  liturjiical  words  which  were  used  for  the  hymns  of  th(!  second 
temple :  tlie  title,  the  musical  terms,  and  the  colophon.  IJut  as  the 
chapter  is  a  pure  ode  or  psalm,  it  may  very  well  have  been  adapted  to 
a  liturgical  use  from  its  original  prophetic  purpose. 


m 


ih: 


>    U 


m 


I: 


I  ..■'11 


Mm 


i  •,[ 


wrnr 


210 


DATE   OF    HABAKKUK 


Book  X 


B ' 


of  personal  experience,  that  the  lighteous  is  saved  by  his 
steadfastness  (§  1132). ^ 

§  1137.  From  what  has  been  said  there  can  be  no  doubt 
as  to  the  approximate  date  of  the  prophecy  of  Ilabakkuk. 
It  was  written  after  the  battle  of  Carchemish,  and  also' 
after  the  Chaldfeans  had  supplanted  the  Egyptians  in  Pal- 
estine. More  definitely,  it  was  composed  just  before  the 
rebellion  of  Jehoiakim  had  brought  tlie  forces  of  Nebu- 
chadrezzar against  the  land.  Tliis  situation  suits  the 
conditions  exactly.  The  prevailing  impiety  (cf.  2  K. 
xxiv.  3;  Jer.  xiv.-xvii.),  all  the  more  lamentable  after  the 
reformation  of  Josiah,  was,  in  the  prophet's  view,  to  be 

1  The  analysis  and  explanation  of  the  book  given  in  the  preceding 
paragraphs  are  not  accepted  hy  all  scholars.  A  luiniber  of  inlluential 
critics,  diwsatislied  with  the  alleged  strained  and  artificial  interpretation 
resulting  from  the  current  arrangement,  jjlace  i.  6-11,  the  rise  and  char- 
acter of  the  Chaldieans.  after  ii.  4,  the  vision  on  the  watch-tower.  This 
transposition  is  adopted  by  (1.  A.  iSmith  in  his  recent  work,  Tlie  Book 
of  the.  Twelve  ProjihelH  (11,  110  ff.),  to  which  the  student  is  referred  for 
a  succinct  account  of  the  matters  at  issue.  The  two  essential  points  of 
the  change  are  that  the  evils  complained  of  in  i.  2-4  are  viewed  by  tlie.se 
authorities  not  as  having  been  wrought  in  Israel  itself,  but  as  having  been 
inflicted  by  an  outside  nation,  and  that  the  C.'liaUheans  are  regarded  as 
about  to  be  raised  up  for  the  purpose  of  (juelling  the  oppressor,  the  author 
of  these  evils.  An  ai)pearance  of  consist(>ncy  and  simplicity  is  undoubt- 
edly gained  by  the  new  arrangement ;  hut  I  am  constrained  to  stand  by 
the  received  order  chiefly  on  the  following  grounds:  (1)  The  evils  of  i. 
2-4  are  such  as  more  readily  spring  from  internal  disorder  and  maladmin- 
istration than  from  foreign  pressure.  (2)  It  is  impossible  to  determine 
who  the  outside  oppressors  are  that  are  supposed  to  be  described  in 
i.  2-4,  12-17.  They  are  certaiidy  not  the  Assyrians,  who  had  ceased  t(v 
exercise  direct  influence  upon  .ludah  at  any  date  to  which  Ilabakkuk  can 
be  reasonably  assigned.  To  maintain  the  opposite  is  to  misunderstand 
the  Asiatic  situation  after  the  Scythian  invasion.s.  They  cannot  be  the 
Kgyjitians,  to  whom  the  descriptirm  of  i.  14-17  is  almost  ludicrcmsly  in- 
applicable. (;5)  As  has  been  pointed  out  by  Davidson,  it  is  most  re  irk- 
able.  on  the  theory  of  trans])osition,  that  tlu;  supi)osed  foreign  peoi)le  of 
tiiese  verses  is  not  mentioned  by  name.  The  difficulties  raised  by  the 
hypothesis  are  greater  than  those  which  it  seeks  to  remove.  Some  weight 
nnist  be  attached  to  the  traditional  order.  Nor  nnist  we  foru'et  that  a 
certain  degree  of  ob.scurity  as  to  the  plan  and  i)urpose  of  the  proj)hecy  is 
to  be  exj)ected  from  its  condensation  and  the  abrupt  transitions  which  it 
exhibits  throughou,. 


Cii.  V,  §  ll;58         TllK    PKOIMIETIC    SUCCKSSION  217 

punislied  by  the  oncoming  of  the  ChakUuan  troops  (Ilab.  i. 
6  if.).  The  Babylonian  power  had  been  felt  by  the  nations 
generally,  and  Avas  known  by  Habakkuk  to  be  irresistible. 
But  it  had  not  yet  been  let  loose  upon  Israel.  As  we 
have  already  seen  (§  1080),  Nebuchadrezzar's  treatment 
of  Judah  had  been  studiously  forbearing;  and  it  was  oidy 
the  conspiracy  of  Jehoiakim  tbat  brought  down  his  wrath 
upon  that  luckless  people.^  The  date  of  the  propliecy  is 
tiierefore  about  <)00  n.r. 

§  1138.  It  was  thus  in  the  ver}'  midst  of  Jeremiah's 
prophetic  work  that  Habakkuk  gave  his  message,  liut 
the  greater  and  more  important  part  of  Jeremiah's  task 
was  wrought  after  that  event,  and  it  is  fitting  that  we 
adjust  the  one  to  the  other  just  at  this  critical  [joint.  It 
is  instructive  to  notice  the  [jrogression  of  proj)hecy  up  to 
the  date  before  us.  Jeremiah  was  contem[)orai'y  with  all 
three:  Zephaniah,  Xahum,  and  ]Ial)akkuk,  and  <h)ubtless 
learned  from  them  all.  Zephauiah  (  §  8:50),  with  the  two- 
fold burden  of  the  Scythian  invasion  and  the  a[)ostasy  that 
followed  the  reformation  of  Josiah,  sees  no  clear  way  out 
of  the  trouble,  and  contents  liimself  witli  objurgations 
upon  the  sinners  in  Jerusalem  and  the  wicked  nations 
round  about,  with  Assvria  in  the  forefront.  Nahum  is 
more  specific.  He  made  a  s[)ecial  study  of  Nineveh  as  the 
long  triumphant,  but  now  moribund  incarnation  of  vio- 
lence, cruelty,  pride,  and  ambition  which  are  pieparing 
for  her  unique  and  absolute  ruin.  Hal)akkuk,  su{)reme 
seer  and  poet,  confronted  with  tlie  image  of  the  new 
Chaldiean  power  rising  upon  the  crumbling  ruins  of  the 


1  Tims  we  may  I'Xiilaiii  tlio  use  of  tin-  jjlirasc  in  i.  (5 :  "I  am  rai^iiii; 
up  tlic  Clialdicaiis.'"  Smith  says  (Itmi,',-  nf  the  'I'wilei-  I'mphits,  ii,  \2'-'>): 
"  Ilow  can  tile  C'halilii'ans  be  (U'scribcd  in  i.  '>  as  just  nhmit  tn  hi'  ruisnt 
?«/),  and  in  U-17  as  aln^ady  for  a  Ion;,'  time  the  devastators  of  tiie  eartliV  " 
Tlie  answer  is  that  they  are  (h'scrihed  as  raised  np  for  a  speeial  jjiirpose. 
namely,  to  punish  Israel,  exactly  in  aecord  with  2  K.  xxiv.  2.  'I"he 
instance  is  parallel  to  Am.  vi.  14.  where  the  .\ssyriaiis.  who  had  been 
loiiR  noted  as  world-seoiir^rers.  are  mentioned,  aliont  7<>o  n.e.,  as  beiin^ 
"raiseil  up"  against  northern  Israel. 


ih 


i! 


11 


-218 


THE   DIVINE   PARADOX 


Book  X 


Assyrian,  finds  tlie  old  formula  of  national  sin  and  pun- 
ishment insuHficient.  He  sees  paradoxes  in  the  divine 
providence  where  his  predecessors  were  content  to  make 
every  national  trial  a  vindication  of  Jehovah's  moral  gov- 
ernment. The  Chaldseans  are,  indeed,  the  instrument 
•chosen  to  punish  tlie  sins  of  Israel,  but  the  Clialdajans 
tliemselves  require  explanation.  Will  that  which  the 
great  Isaiah  said  of  the  Assyrian  a  hundred  years  ago 
(Isa.  X.  5  ff.)  hold  true  of  the  more  brilliant  and  irre- 
sistible Babylonian?  It  will,  if  the  punishment  of  tlie 
lesser  offender  can  be  brought  under  tlie  same  law  as  the 
triumph  of  the  greater  (ii.  13).  This  is  the  problem  upon 
which  the  prophet  wreaks  his  soul.  Can  it  be  that  Jeho- 
vah is  behind  the  remorseless  tyrant  that  slaj's  his  creatures 
(^i.  14)  unceasingly  as  a  sacrifice  to  his  own  power  and 
pride?  The  answer  comes  to  him  who  sees  the  end  of  the 
oppressor's  career  (cf.  Ps.  Ixxiii.  17).  But  to  discern 
the  final  issue  is  given  only  to  patient,  steadfast  trustful- 
ness, in  other  words,  to  the  soul  that  has  already  found 
the  source  of  its  own  salvation  in  trusting  God  and  doing 
the  right.  This  is  the  pearl  of  great  price  which  the 
prophet  has  found  in  the  deep  dark  waters  of  doubt  and 
perplexity  and  set  in  the  bosom  of  his  discourse. 

§  1139.  Habakkuk  tlius  summarizes  and  appraises  the 
career  of  the  Chaldajans  as  the  scourge  of  Israel,  before 
that  career  has  well  begun.  He  not  only  supplements, 
but  in  a  manner  anticipates  the  work  and  word  of  Jere- 
miah, the  martyr  prophet  of  the  Chaldaian  era.  But  what 
a  contrast  in  temper,  genius,  and  style  between  these  two 
greatest  moral  teachers  of  the  time!  The  one  was  so 
brilliant,  so  serene,  so  self-poised;  the  other  so  liumanly 
jiassionate,  so  self-distrustful,  so  minutely  dutiful.  The 
one  was  a  man  of  thought;  the  other,  with  all  his  difh- 
dence,  a  man  of  action.  Habakkuk  is  like  a  searchlight, 
that  travels  far  and  near  and  reveals  the  danger  points  for 
many  a  league  around.  Jeremiah  resembles  a  ship's  head- 
light, which  shows  the  rocks  and  shoals  that  lie  directly 


Cii.  V,  §  11;J9  HABAKKUK  AND  .IKREMIAH  219 

in  lior  course.  The  enthusiasm  and  serenity  of  Ilabakkuk 
must  have  sustained  many  a  fainting  soul  in  the  days  of 
Israel's  humiliation.  Jeremiah's  active  devotion  and  his 
priestly  consecration  made  him  a  tower  of  strength  to  all 
faithful  ones  in  every  vicissitude.  The  book  of  Ilabak- 
kuk forms  the  best  general  introduction  to  the  inner 
history  of  the  true  Israel  during  the  Chaldean  period,  and 
from  it  we  now  return  to  the  word  and  work  of  Jeremiah. 


n 


CHAPTER   VI 


.TEKEMIAH    AND   THE    FIRST    KEBELLION 


§  1140.  The  agony  of  such  a  struc^gle  could  not  hist 
much  hinger,  anil  it  was  well  for  tlie  prophet  that  a 
cliantife  in  the  whole  political  situation  relieved  him  of 
the  strain  of  the  irreconcible  strife.  We  may  assume  that 
with  the  comint^  of  the  Chaldiean  he  was  relieved  from 
surveillance  and  the  })ul)lic  ban.  Probably  he  did  not 
feel  called  upon  to  prophesy  till  the  rebellion  of  Jelioia- 
kim  brougiit  turmoil  and  hopeless  disaster  to  his  country. 
When  the  "desperate  day"  (§  1127)  arrived,  raiders 
and  freebooters  swept  across  tiie  border,  following-  the 
lialf-disciplined  levies  of  Moab  and  Damascus  and  backed 
lip  by  the  imperial  army  itself  (§  1078).  Israel  had  now 
still  furtlier  reason  to  respect  the  prophetic  word,  liut 
tiicre  is  no  chiding  in  his  recorded  utterances,  only  an 
outburst  of  grief,  in  the  name  of  Jehovali,  for  the  suffer- 
ings and  desolation  of  his  people,  followed  b}'  a  judgment 
upon  tiie  merciless  invaders.  "  I  have  forsaken  my 
household,  I  have  rejected  my  inheritance.  I  have  given 
tlie  beloved  of  my  soul  into  the  luind  of  lier  enemies.  .  .  . 
IVIany  princes  liave  destroyed  my  vineyard  :  they  have 
trodden  dowMi  my  possessions,  they  have  made  my  pleasant 
possessions  a  desolate  wilderness.  .  .  .  For  a  sword,  the 
sword  of  Jehovah,  is  devouring  from  one  end  of  the  land 
to  tlie  other:  no  mortal  hath  any  peace.  They  have  sown 
wheat  and  reaped  thorns;  they  have  made  themselves  sick 
without  profit.  .  .  .  Thus  saith  Jehovah  concerning  all 
my  evil   neighbours  who  break   in  upon  my  inheritance 

220 


mm 


•Cii.  VI,  §  1142 


TIIK    Hi:CIIABITES 


221 


which  1  have  bestowed  upon  my  people  Israel,  IJehokl  I 
will  tear  theiu  up  from  off  their  land,  and  the  house  of 
.ludah  I  will  tear  up  from  their  midst"  (xii.  7-14). 

§  1141.  An  episode  of  the  invasion  and  the  blockade 
of  Jerusalem,  recorded  in  Jer.  xxxv.,  furnished  the 
prophet  with  a  rare  text  for  a  new  discourse.  It  is  also 
worth  noting  because  it  suggests  to  us  the  condition  of  a 
great  part  of  Israel  during  such  times  of  peril  and  dread. 
A  band  of  Rechabites,  to  save  their  lives  from  the  Chal- 
djean  and  Araimean  soldiery,  had  given  up  their  wonted 
life  in  tents  and  taken  refuge  within  the  walls  of  the 
capital.  They  were  but  one  of  many  little  comnninities 
whose  pasture-lands  and  open  fields  were  shorn  by  the 
razor  that  had  been  brought  from  over  the  River  to  make 
smooth  and  bare  the  land  of  Jehovah  (Isa.  vii.  20). 
Jeremiah  had  lived  over  in  imagination  the  horrors  and 
the  sufferings  of  the  invasion  and  devastation  of  his 
country,  lie  now  made  a  practical  use  of  this  case  of  the 
fugitive  Rechabites.  Permitted  once  more  to  go  "  in  and 
out "  among  the  people,  he  at  the  divine  command  invited 
the  heads  of  this  pastoral  tribe  into  one  of  the  rooms  of 
the  court  of  the  temple,  where  the  sacrificial  feasts  were 
wont  to  be  held  (xxxv.  3,  4).  There  he  set  bowls  of  wine 
before  them  and  bade  them  drink  (v.  5.).  They  refused 
to  imbibe  on  principle,  though,  as  the  names  of  the  leaders 
imply  (v.  8),  they,  with  their  ancestor,  Jonadab,  were 
adherents  of  Jehovah,  of  w^hose  service  wine  was  the  chief 
libation.  The  ancestral  prohibition  (§  41(}),  along  with 
the  custom  of  their  tribe,  was  enough  to  keep  them  firm 
against  all  solicitation  (vs.  (I-ll). 

§  1142.  Jeremiah  then  came  out  to  the  open  court, 
Avhere  the  people  were  asseiid)led  for  worship  and  sacri- 
fice, and  gave  them  a  notable  sermon  (vs.  12-17).  Tiie 
Rechabites  had  obeyed  their  father  in  this  matter,  because 
they  held  his  command  to  be  sacred.  The  people  of 
Judah  and  Jerusalem  had  disobeyed  Jehovah's  revealed 
will.     This    was   an   affair   of   outward    observance;    the 


H 

•  I 

I 
I 

I 

1 

I 


i    ' 


.1 


J  1 


k 


M 


wm 


I  't 


222 


JEREMIAH   AND  JEHOIAKIM 


Book  X 


other  a  concern  of  heart  and  soul  and  life.  The  one 
was  an  injunction  delivered  but  once,  and  that  long  ago  ; 
the  other  a  charge  reiterated  perpetually  by  Jehovah's 
messengers  sent  to  them  for  that  very  purpose.  Both 
parties  were  sincere  in  their  professions  of  attachment  to 
their  resi)ective  patrons  and  lawgivers.  To  which  must 
the  praise  of  obedience  be  awarded  ?  Tlie  lesson  is  an 
obvious  one  to  us.  But  we  must  not  think  that  his  audi- 
tors were  conscience-stricken  and  abashed.  They  most 
probably  thought  that  what  he  said  was  clever  and  strik- 
ing ;  but  tliey  also  liad  abundant  ])recedent  for  the  way 
in  which  they  honoured  Jehovah,  of  whose  worship  this 
unfashionable  prophet  seemed  to  have  sucli  a  narrow  con- 
ception. The  armies  of  Nebuchadrezzar  marching  to 
Jerusalem  gave,  for  the  time  at  least,  a  stronger  sujjport 
to  the  prophet's  appeals  than  did  the  case  of  these  eccen- 
tric and  outlandisli  ascetics.  Yet  the  men  of  the  tent  oc- 
cupied a  moral  position  far  superior  to  that  of  the  more 
privileged  men  of  the  city.  They  stood  for  a  principle 
held  consistently  for  hundreds  of  years  (see  §  410).  And 
it  had  been  their  salvation  morally  as  well  as  physically. 
This  is  the  secret  of  the  "first  commandment  witli 
promise  "  (Ex.  xx.  12  ;  Eph.  vi.  2  f.). 

§  1143.  We  pass  now  to  Jehoiachin,  the  ill-fated  son 
of  an  ill-fated  father.  For  one  whose  reign  was  so  short 
he  furnished  much  matter  for  prophecy.  But  the  brief 
term  of  this  boy-king  was  the  most  fateful  yet  known  to 
Judali  and  Jerusalem.  Ilis  fate  deeply  impressed  Jere- 
miah who  witnessed  his  banishment,  and  Ezekiel  who 
shared  it.  The  retrospective  lament  of  the  latter  (Ezek. 
xix.  5-9)  is  a  poetical  embellishment  of  the  king's  fierce 
defiance  of  the  Clialdiean  and  of  the  manner  of  his  surren- 
der and  deportation,  and  thereby  he  also  typifies  the  for- 
tunes of  all  the  latest  kings  of  Israel.  To  Jeremiah,  already 
committed  to  the  task  of  prophet  and  censor  of  an  expiring 
monarchy,  the  events  of  these  three  months  were  of  more 
direct  and  practical  interest.     Israel  was  rapidly  nearing 


I: 


Cii.  VI,  §  1144 


WARNINGS   AND  ELEGIES 


22.'); 


its  doom.  Striking  figures  (Jer.  xiii.  1-14)  set  forth 
Jehovah's  rejection  of  his  i)eople  and  tiieir  folly  and 
pride,  the  prelude  to  tlieir  utter  destruction.  Then  comes 
a  passage  of  wondrous  power  and  beauty  (vs.  15-17): 
"Hear  ye  and  give  heed;  be  not  haughty,  for  Jehovah 
hath  spoken.  Give  honour  to  Jehovah  your  (Jod,  before 
He  brings  on  the  darkness  and  before  your  feet  stund)le 
upon  the  murky  lulls.  And  ye  shall  look  for  light,  and 
He  shall  make  it  deep  darkness  and  change  it  to  thickest 
gloom.  And  if  ye  will  not  hear,  my  soul  shall  weej)  in 
secret  for  your  pride ;  and  my  eyes  shall  wee[)  bitterly 
and  run  down  with  tears  because  the  Hock  of  Jehovah  is 
carried  away  captive."  Tliis  last  pathetic  warning  ad- 
dressed to  Jerusalem  is  the  prelude  to  an  elaborate  elegy  ^ 
(vs.  18-25).  It  first  commemorates  the  hapless  Jehoia- 
chin  and  the  queen-mother :  — 

"  Say  to  the  king  and  the  qneen-motlier 
Take  a  lowly  seat, 
For  there  has  fallen  from  your  heads 
Your  diadem  of  beauty." 

Then  it  turns  to  the  cities  of  Judah  and  especially  the 
terror-stricken  capital,  bewailing  their  misery  and  tracing 
it  to  its  cause. 

§  11-14.  Wlmt  Jeremiah  further  says  about  Jehoiachin 
seems  to  be  partly  a  reminiscence  and  partly  an  after- 
thought written  down  in  the  reign  of  Zedckiah  (Jer.  xxii. 
20-30).  In  it,  as  in  eh.  xiii.,  the  fate  of  Jerusalem  with 
its  cedar-built  palaces  —  compared  to  an  eagle  whose  nest 
is  in  Lebanon  —  is  closely  linked  with  that  of  the  youthful 
king.  The  language  emi)loyed  is  strangely  harsh  and 
pitiless.     "  As   I  live,"  saith  Jehov^ah,  "  though  ( 'oniah, 

1  See  Cornill,  Text  of  Jprfmiah,  p.  Ifl  f.,  for  the  arrangement  in  elegiac 
"metre."  The  unpoetical  vs.  2(5  and  27  make  a  ianu'  and  impotent 
conclusion  to  tins  noble  discourse.  Much  better  would  it  be  to  regard 
them  as  a  later  addition  by  a  writer  ignorant  of  the  elegiac  measure. 
Verse  20  is  merely  a  prosaic  repetition  of  v.  22  h,  and  v.  27  is  a  brief 
cento  of  some  of  the  harsher  of  Jeremiah's  accusations. 


'Tr 


( i  ;■  I 


224 


A    I'UcmhKM   OF    IMIOI'UKCY 


Hook  XT 


the  son  of  Juhoiakiiu,  king  of  .hulah,  were  the  signet-riiij^ 
upon  my  right  hiuul,  surely  I  would  tear  hinj  away  fronx 
it.  And  I  will  give  thee  into  the  hand  of  them  that  seek 
thy  life  and  whom  thou  dost  dread,  into  the  hand  of  Nebu- 
chadrezzar, king  of  Hal)3'lon,  and  into  the  hand  of  the 
('hahheans.  And  I  shall  hurl  thee  away,  and  thy  mother 
that  bore  thee,  into  another  land,  where  ye  were  not  born, 
and  there  shall  ye  die.  ...  Is  this  man  Coniah  a  de- 
spised broken  thing,  or  a  vessel  for  which  no  one  cares? 
Why  have  they  been  hurled  away  and  cast  into  a  land 
which  they  know  not  ?  " 

§  1145.  One  would  liave  expected  some  pity  or  sym- 
pathy for  tliis  luckless  youth  called  at  the  age  of  eighteen 
to  a  post  of  terrible  responsibility,  danger,  and  dilHiculty. 
His  case  was  altogether  different  from  that  of  his  father. 
The  perilous  insurrection  against  Babylon  had  been  under- 
taken by  Jelioiakim,  who  loft  it  as  a  legacy  to  his  son. 
That  Jehoiachin  failed  to  send  his  submission  till  the  city 
was  besieged  was  doubtless  largely  due  to  tlie  same  coun- 
sellors who  had  encouraged  his  father  to  hopeless  rebel- 
lion. What  could  this  boy  have  done  to  draw  down  upon 
him  such  an  explosion  of  indignation  and  scorn  ?  It  is 
ilil'licult  to  believe  that  this  discourse  was  ever  actually 
delivered  to  or  at  the  distracted  and  helpless  young  king 
whose  misfortunes  were,  for  all  that  the  record  shows,  as 
great  as  his  offences.  Apart  from  the  hyberbole  that 
marks  Hebrew  and  especially  prophetic  rhetoric,  we  have 
to  account  for  the  phenomenon  by  assumptions  wliicli 
touch  the  very  nature  and  inner  process  of  prophecy.  We 
liave  to  remember  that  the  Old  Testament  prophets  almost 
exclusively  regard  suffering  as  the  direct  punishment  of 
sin  (§  1107).  Compassion  was  not  always  withheld  from 
the  sufferer  (see  e.g.  xxii.  10),  but  he  was  held  to  be 
"stricken,  smitten  of  God,  and  afflicted,"  and  therefore 
"he  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men"  (Isa.  liii.  3  f.). 
There  were  many  who  went  into  captivity  with  Jehoiachin 
whose  guilt  was  greater  than  his  ;  but  it  is  the  head  of 


Cii.  VI,  §  1147  TIIK   CASK   OF  .IKIKHACIIIN 


236 


the  state  that  bears  the  brunt  of  the  i)o[)uhir  national 
<;ahuiiity,  as  in  a  thunderstorm  the  li«ifhtnin^  strii\es  the 
loftiest  summit.  Vet  there  is  a  law  of  con^uMisation  in 
the  eternal  reekoning  of  the  good  and  ill  of  human  fates; 
and  if  we  knew  all,  we  should  doul)tless  see  that  besides 
the  amelioration  of  his  lot  in  exile  (5^  1147)  the  thirty- 
seven  years  of  Jehoiaehin's  imprisomnent  brought  at  least 
a  vi(;arious  blessing  to  his  repentant  fellow-exiles. 

§  114(}.  Hut  there  is,  besides,  anctther  view  of  the  ap- 
jiarently  unfeeling  language  used  of  Jehoiachin.  In  the 
prophetic  literature  we  nnist  perpetually  be  on  the  wateh 
for  rhetorical  colouring  and  figurative  speecii  when  the 
terms  em])loyed  would  scarcely  suggest  the  i)eculiarity  to 
a  modern  Occidental  reader.  We  are  familiar  (i?  HTO) 
with  the  habit  of  the  prophets  of  putting  a  part  for  the 
whole,  so  that  a  few  leading  traits  of  character  are  mad»; 
to  stand  for  the  total  personality.  We  are  therefore  not 
ready  to  nuike  an  exhaustive  estimate  of  Jehoiachin  on 
the  basis  of  the  selective  and  therefore  one-sided  rhetoric 
of  the  extant  prophecies.  But  what  is  etpially  inqxjrtant 
though  less  obvious  is  the  fact  that  the  prophets  in  their 
interpretation  of  events  represent  as  the  innnediate  eft'ects 
of  the  divine  agency  those  ordinary  events  of  human  life 
and  fortune  which  W(!  are  in  the  habit  of  ascril)ing  to  so- 
called  second  causes.  As  there  was  to  the  Semitic  mind 
but  one  great  and  only  cause,  his  acti(»n  is  set  forth  as 
involved  in  all  human  experience.  Tims  here  the  details 
of  the  fate  of  Jehoiachin  are  renthired,  so  to  sj)eak,  into, 
their  equivalent  of  divine  moral  causation.  A  twofold 
nomenou  is  tli 


i-y  ph 


pn 


result  of  sin  ;  the  evils  of  Jehoiachin's  lot  ai»[)ear  in  the 
guise  of  his  sins.  And  .leh(»vah,  as  the  cause;  of  all  things, 
is  described  as  carrying  out  his  own  moral  laws  in  the 
dethronement  and  banishment  of  the  king. 

§1147.  Hut  to  prove  that  this  outburst  witli  regard 
to  Jehoiachin  was  mainly  subjective  we  have  something 
better  than  deductive  argument.      The  case  of  the  exiled 


'•I 


I, 


■ii- 


i 

■  Ii 

.   ';        (  Ml 


i'  1 


II 


'I 


22fl 


FOREBODINGS   ANI)   FACTS 


n«)OK  X 


king  was  not  in  all  respects  so  hard  as  is  here  prognosti- 
cated. The  concluding  verse  runs  (xxii.  30)  :  "Write  yo 
down  this  man  chihlless  ;  a  man  that  shall  not  prosper 
in  his  days ;  for  none  of  his  seed  shall  sit  in  prosperity 
on  the  throne  of  David,  or  rule  any  more  my  people 
Israel."  liut,  according  to  1  Chr.  iii.  17  ff.,  Jehoiachin 
had  several  sons  in  captivity  (cf.  §  1081),  and  Zerubbabel, 
the  hero  of  the  Return,  was  his  grandson.  Moreover,  ac- 
cording to  the  genealogy  of  Matt.  i.  12  ff.,  he  thus  be- 
came an  ancestor  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 


! 


:•!  m 


mm 


T 


CIIAFIEII   VII 


JEREMIAH   AND   JLDAH  S    LAST    IMMJliATION 

§  1148.  Our  narrative  of  the  later  liistory  of  Israel, 
and  our  review  of  the  story  in  the  lij^lit  of  prophetieal 
comment,  have  hroutjfht  us  to  the  lirst  j^reat  captivity  of 
Judah  and  Jerusalem.  Ipon  the  throne  left  vacant  hy 
the  banishment  of  -lehoiaehin,  his  uncle  Mattaniah  ("(lift 
of  Jehovah"),  the  youni^est  son  of  Jo.siali,  was  placed  by 
Nebuchadrez/.ar,  his  name  beinj,'  ehan<^e<l  to  Zedekiali 
("My  Righteousness  is  Jehovah")  to  indicate  the  chant,^e 
of  relation  (cf.  §  1040).  This  new  e[»ithet  possibly  had 
reference  to  the  solemn  oath  which  he  took  before  his  own 
God  (2  Chr.  xxxvi.  18;  Ez.  xvii.  18  ff.)  to  be  a  faithful 
vassal  to  the  Chuhhean  kinjif.  His  reiii^n  was  one  of  the 
most  unfortunate  in  the  annals  of  royalty.  His  evil  fate 
must  be  attributed  in  part  to  his  unhappy  circumstances, 
and  in  some  degree  also  to  his  own  folly  and  weakness. 
From  the  historical  books  of  the  Old  Testament  we  get 
but  little  actual  knowledge  of  the  earlier  and  longer  part 
of  his  reign.  We  are  therefore  the  more  indebted  to  the 
prophets  Jeremiah  and  Ezekiel  for  information  which  to 
some  extent  supi)lies  the  want.  Indeed,  so  large  a  part 
does  prophecy  play  in  the  subsequent  history  till  the  close 
of  the  Exile,  that  it  naturally  weaves  itself  into  our  narra- 
tive as  one  of  the  elements  of  a  single  story. 

§  1149.  The  prominence  of  these  two  great  prophets, 
the  one  in  Jerusalem  and  the  other  among  the  exiles  in 
Babylon  (§  1174  ff.),  is  suggestive  of  the  changes  that  came 
with  the  collapse  of  the  kingdom.      Jeremiah  was  left 

227 


i 


:'.    f 


'  ■■  M 


«■'■ 


ii 

m 


Ji!  ■    ■. 


228 


JKUKMIAIIS    I'OSITIOX    IMrUOVEO 


Book  X 


rm 


Ijc'liind  b}'  the  CluilcUean  authorities,  probably  because  he 
might  be  (lepended  upou  to  exercise  a  conservative  inllu- 
euce  upon  tlie  new  and  struggling  administration.  Hence 
lie  Ixicame  rehitively  more  important  in  a  community 
depleted  of  its  strongest  personal  elements.  Again, 
the  fullilment  of  his  predictions  gave  popular  prestige 
for  the  moment  not  merely  to  himself,  but  also  to  the 
prophetical  school  or  party  of  which  he  was  the  head. 
Accoi'dingly,  his  oracular  utterances  were  listened  to  for 
a  time  with  deference,  if  not  with  api)roval,  and,  though 
linall}-  oi)posed  even  with  violence,  he  was  henceforth 
more  sure  of  himself  ar.d  moved  amouff  the  hiirher  circles 
of  his  peo[)le  with  less  apprehension.  INIoreover,  Zcdekiah 
and  his  immediate  surrounding  were  quite  different  in 
character  from  the  king  and  nobles  who  had  silenced  Jere- 
miah. Zcdekiah,  naturally  self-distrustful,  was  little 
likely  to  be  overbearing  and  intolerant  with  the  burden 
upon  him  of  a  fallen  cause  and  dilapidated  kingdom. 
Thus  we  never  find  him  personally  resentful  toward 
Jcrcmiph,  though  so  often  upbraided  and  condemned  by 
the  plain-si)oken  prophet. 

§  11  oO.  These  conditions  provided  Jeremiah  with  a 
motive  to  active  work  such  as  had  hitherto  been  denied  to 
him.  The  revolution  thus  marks  an  epoch  in  his  public 
life,  in  his  personal  experience,  aiul  in  his  literary  career. 
In  a  man  of  his  brooding  introsi)ective  disjjosition,  and 
yet  of  ardent  impulse,  intense  action  is  needed  to  bring 
out  the  liighest  possibilities  of  his  nature,  as  the  lark 
cannot  sing  until  it  flutters  its  wings  and  rises  above 
the  earth  where  it  is  wont  to  nestle.  One  remarkable 
result  of  his  unimpeded  energy  is  seen  in  the  abst'uce  of 
qucrulousness  and  self-distrust  in  all  the  later  jirophecies 
of  Jeremiah,  as  contrasted  with  those  of  the  period  of 
Jelioiakim.' 

'  The  jHTCoptitin  of  this  fact  iniiiiit  jxTliajis  luive  prevented  roniill 
from  assigiiine  .ler.  xx.  T-IS  to  the  peiU)d  of  Zedekiah  ;  see  liis  Teut  of 
the  liitok  nf  Jeremiah,  p.  28. 


T 


mimt 


^^Wf^ 


Cm.  VII.  §  ll.Vi      ZKDKKIAII    AND    HIS    I'KOI'LK 


22fr 


§  1151.  Of  Zedekiiih,  the  other  outstaiuliiig  ligure  in 
.lerusiilem,  one  could  wish  to  say  something  more  favour- 
ahle  than  that  he  was  lenient  and  forbearinjj  toward  the 
stern  and  unbending  projthet  of  Jehovah.  liut  it  is  im- 
possible for  the  impartial  historian  to  set  down  much  in 
his  praise.  He  was  but  twenty-one  when  he  came  to  the 
throne,  and  lie  had  to  rule  a  set  of  poverty-stricken,  shift- 
less j>eople,  headed  by  turbulent,  intiiguing  princes  and 
nobles.  Thus  he  had  a  task  of  almost  iiisu[)erable  dilli- 
culty  to  fiiliil,  and  his  failure  doi's  not  <»f  itself  deserve 
(ondenniation.  JJut  he  was  no  ruler  of  men.  Perhaps  he 
assumed  the  throne  unwillingly.  At  any  rate,  he  never 
played  the  king,  and  at  critical  times  admitted  to  his  own 
courtieis  their  superior  [tower  (Jer.  xxxviii.  o).  He  was 
not  petulant  or  Jicadstrctng,   like  Jehoiakim,   but  rather 


timid   and   vacillatinLr.      With    irnod    intentions,    la 


yt 


failed  signally  in  two  ca[)ital  all'airs  of  state.     Though 
cessible  to  the  prophetic  word  he  tolerated  all  sorts  of 


ai 


d) 


ii)uses  in  llie  puhlie  services 


bli 


o 


f  rel 


liT'on,  even 


to  tl 


le  Lfross- 


est  idolatry  (55  lloo,  WHil  IT.).  Again,  as  a  sworn  vassal 
of  Nelmehadre/./.ar,  it  was  his  plain  interest,  as  well  as  his 
duty  to  his  declining  kingdom  and  war-cursed  people,  to 
reniiiin  the  friend  and  eonlidant  of  the  great  C'hald;ean.  Vet 
he  allowed  himself  to  drift  awav  fi'om  his  alle<:iance  and 


to  make  a  league  with  foreign  consitirators  wliose  alhanco 
had  been  for  live  generations  the  snare  and  bane  of  Israel. 
§  11 02.  And  \\liat  of  the  peojde  whom  the  unhappy 
young  king  was  called  to  govern?  To  understand  their 
condition  we  must  look  at  the  character  and  results  of 
the  Chaldiean  invasion.  Ordinarilv,  under  the  original 
Assyrian  regime,  (K'i)ortation  was  acc(tm|)anied  liy  the 
total  sub»'ersion  of  the  state  (§  2XH  f.).  In  such  a  case 
the  suzerain  IxH'ame  the  actual  ruler,  entered  into  pos- 
session of  the  forfeited  territory,  and  administcied  it 
directly  through  his  onicers.  'J'hough  Nebiichadrez/ar  did 
not  deal  with  Judah  in  this  fashion,  lie  made  no  j)ro- 
vision    for  the  rehabilitation  of    the  prostrate  kingdom^ 


m 

I 


\m 


H 


ik 


k 


I. 


M' 


w^ 


A  SOCIAL   UEVOLUTION 


Book  X 


After  the  terrible  chastisement  it  was  left  to  shift  for 
itself,  and  the  luckless  remnant  of  the  population  were 
an  object  of  solicitude  to  the  head  of  the  empiie  only  in 
connection  with  their  payment  of  tribute.  Hence,  after 
the  selection  and  deportation  of  the  captives  had  been 
accomplished,  the  Chaldujan  government  ceased  to  liavo 
anything  to  do  with  the  internal  affairs  of  Judah  and 
Jerusalem.  Its  duties  to  the  rebel  state  ended  with  call- 
ing off  the  auxiliary  bands  of  marauders  (§  1078)  and 
withdrawing  the  imperial  army  of  occupation.  Tliere 
was,  apparently,  even  no  resident  agent  to  look  after  the 
revenue  or  to  repori,  to  the  court  at  Babylon  matters  tiiat 
touched  the  welfart,  of  the  empire  (cf.  Ez.  xvii.  IJJ  f., 
§1150). 

§  lloS.  Tlie  matters  of  most  pressing  concern  to 
the  remaining  Judaites  were  the  readjustment  of  private 
property  and  the  raising  of  the  tribute.  The  former 
process  nuist  have  amounted  to  a  com[)lete  social  revolu- 
tion, since,  with  the  exception  of  some  of  tlie  ollicials, 
only  the  poorest  of  the  people  were  left  behind.  The 
details  of  the  new  tillotment  we  do  not  know.  It  goes 
without  saying  that  many  bondmen  and  debtors  would  be 
freed,  and  that  in  the  redistribution  many  fortunes  would 
go  to  unworthy  pro[)rietors.  In  the  scramble  for  wealth 
the  deserving  would  often  be  thrust  aside,  and  enmities 
created  without  number,  which  would  continue  to  increase 
the  social  disturbance  conseiiuent  upon  the  revolution. 
All  this  would  hai)peu  in  spite  of  the  best  attem[its  of  the 
king's  ollicers  to  do  justice.  There  is  f)ne  circumstance, 
liowever,  which  must  have  lessened  the  chances  of  a 
wholesale  seijnestration  of  property.  E/.ckicl,  writing  in 
the  ninth  year  of  this  ca[>tivity  (ch.  xxiv.  -1),  s[(('aks  ()f 
the  fate  of  sons  and  daughters  left  behind  in  the  home- 
land. When  such  were  found  their  claims  to  the  ancestral 
property  were  doubtless  res[)ected.  Hesides,  th(»  nearest 
of  kin  to  the  exiles  would  often  be  ajipoiu'ed  trustees 
for  the  absentees  or  ajjents  for  the  sale  of  their  estates. 


ii'- 


yr 


■Cii.  VII,  §  1155     TUIBLTi:-I'AYlN(J    AND   SKDITION 


231 


§  1154.  The  i)ayment  of  the  tribute  was  of  most  per- 
nianeiit  practical  concern  to  king  and  people.  As  it  was 
to  be  sent  yearly  to  Babylon,  the  cpiestion  of  ways  and 
means  became  at  once  a  matter  of  urgency.  A  more 
embarrassing  situation  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  Tlie 
chief  dilliculty  was  created  by  the  fact  that  those  who 
were  looked  to  as  tax-payei-s  were,  for  the  most  i)art, 
unused  to  the  duties  of  freeholders  and  must  have  grudged 
every  shekel  which  they  were  forced  to  give.  At  l)cst, 
the  raising  of  the  first  year's  contribution  was  a  tenible 
drain  upon  the  im[)overished  and  newly  enfranchised 
classes  of  the  connnunity.  If  a  strong  man  liad  been  at 
the  head  of  affairs,  — to  use  the  phrase  of  Ezekiel  (xxii. 
30;  cf.  xiii.  10  ff.),  one  who  would  repair  the  wall  and 
stand  in  the  breach  on  behalf  of  the  people,  — or  if  there 
had  been  patriotic  counsellors  in  the  cabinet,  order,  tran- 
quillity, ami  a  working  fiscal  system  might  have  been 
established.  But  all  that  we  can  learn  as  to  the  conduct 
of  the  government  goes  to  show  tliat  with  the  passing  of 
the  years  of  Zedekiah's  reign  the  rulers  became  less  able 
to  cope  with  their  dillicullies.  Thus,  the  dreadful  alter- 
native of  rebellion,  perhaps  uiged  upon  them  at  fust 
against  their  will,  became  ever  more  welcome  to  them 
as  the  lesser  of  the  two  evils.  The  com[ilications  were 
added  to  by  tlie  condition  and  conduct  of  tlie  surround- 
ing peoples,  Samaritans,  Ajumonites,  Moabites,  Kdomites, 
Piiilistines  of  one  city  or  another.  All  of  these  were 
conuuunities  of  little  wealth  or  responsibility,  and  nf 
slight  financial  importance  to  the  common  suzerain.  I5ut 
we  know  that  some  of  them  greatly  troubled  the  hidaiti'S 
(.Fer.    xxvii.    3)   by    their   seditious    intrigues.      It    was 


natural  that  tlie  citizens  of  Jciiisalc 


ni. 


think 


vinir  o 


mg 


f  th 


lighter  burdens  of  their  neighbours,  would  Wud  in  the 
contrast  to  their  owJi  grievous  imjiosts  an  additional 
motive  to  throw  olT  the  yoke  of  Babylon. 


Ul 


oo. 


Besides   the   social   troubles    and   tlie    nionev 


question,    the   religious  condition  of  the  people   \\a,^  an 


;!.'■ 


r 


'}l:'" 


:■  a 

1 

in 

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KKLIGION    L'NDKU   ZKDKKIAH 


Book  X 


4 


julditional  element  of  disoider  and  discontent.  The 
stereotj'ped  plnase  of  2  K.  xxiv.  lU  declares  that  Zede- 
kiah  "did  evil  in  the  sight  of  Jehovah  according  to  all 
that  Jehoiakim  had  done."  Under  his  regime  the  popn- 
lar  religion  was  still  of  that  merely  conventional  kind 
Avhieh  tolerated  any  traditional  mode  of  worship,  any 
Canaan itish  or  Babylonian  enlt,  as  of  ecjual  ceremonial 
value  with  the  direct  and  exclusive  service  of  Jehovah. 
It,  indeed,  often  combined  the  one  with  the  other,  or  even 
sometimes  gave  the  preference  to  foreign  abominations. 
And  yet  to  the  opponents  of  the  school  of  Jeiemiah, 
whether  of  high  or  of  low  degree,  Jehovah  was  still  the 
supreme  deity,  and  the  ascertainment  of  his  will  was  the 
great  business  of  pro])hecy.  Thus  we  have  on  the  one 
liand  the  practice  of  the  grossest  and  most  grotes(pie 
usages  of  heathenism  (Iv/.ek.  viii. ;  §  IIS'2  ff.)  on  the 
pait  of  representative  men ;  and  on  the  other  the  defiant 
assertion  of  a  rival  prophet,  their  oracle  and  champion, 
that  he  knew  the  mind  of  Jehovah  better  than  did  Jere- 
miaii  himself  (Jer.  xxviii.  1  tf.). 

§  lloO.  Such  worshi[)  of  Jehovah  expressed  itself  some- 
what in  this  fashion:  "Jehovah  is  the  (Jod  of  the  Jiation. 
lie  cannot  abandon  his  people  utteily  or  finally.  It  is 
true,  he  has  permitted  a  calamity  to  fall  upon  us.  lint  it 
is  not  so  great  as  we  thought  it  at  first.  We  are  still 
a  people.  Like  other  nations  in  our  position  we  were 
not  entirely  subverted,  and  that  meddlesome  Jeremiah 
only  guessed  half  of  the  truth  after  all.  We  are  still  the 
most  imi)ortant  nation  of  the  whole  coast-land.  Other 
peo[)les  are  coming  to  us  for  countenance  and  sui)[)()rt 
(cf.  Jer.  xxvii.  8).  Our  l)rethren  in  exile  are  not  dis- 
[leised  among  tiit  nations,  and  they  will  soon  return  to 
our  side  (cf.  Jer.  xxviii.  4).  Our  preservation  is  a  proof 
that  Jehovah  iutends  us  to  beat  down  our  enemies, 
liabylon  will  come  to  an  end  like  Nineveh,  and  tlie 
hotise  of  David  shall  be  established  for  ever."  Thus 
was  the  i)hantom  of  independence  pursued  till  the  very 


1;^ 


■«M 


mm 


Cm.  VI I,  §  lb" 


l$K(;iNXIX(iS  OF   UKVOLT 


2na- 


form  and  substance  of  luitioniil  existence  were  lost.  Ac- 
cording to  E/ekiel  (xvii.  IJJ  f.)  ''the  king  of  Biibylou 
took  iiway  tlie  mighty  of  the  land,  that  the  kingdom  might 
be  made  i)ase,  that  it  might  not  lift  itself  u\\  but  that  hy 
kee[)ing  his  covenant  it  migiit  endure."  He  did  not  know 
the  ca[)acity  of  resistance  and  self-assertion  left  in  the 
little  kingdom  —  the  fermenting  spirit  that  lingeied  in 
the  very  drejis  of  the  wine  bottle  wliich  he  had  decanted.* 
§  11")7.  Alread}-,  early  in  the  fourth  year  (ol*-!  it.c), 
the  people  seemed  ripe  for  revolt.  At  least,  the  discon- 
tented cf)nnnunities  round  about  hoped  to  bring  them  to 
open  insurrection  (§  llo4).  A  combined  embassy,  with 
this  end  in  view,  was  sent  from  the  kings  of  Edom, 
Amnion,  Moab,  Tyre,  and  Sidon  (.ler.  xxvii.  8  f. ). 
Their  arrival  bron<,iit  into  shar[)er  antagonism  the  revo- 
lulionaiy  and  the  conservative  elements  in  the  state. 
The  professed  pro[)hets  of  Jehovah,  looked  u[>  to  by 
both  i)arties  (J^  ll.V)),  were  now  in  greater  vogue  and 
estimation  than  they  had  been  since  the  days  of  Josiah. 
They  had  the  ear  of  king,  court,  and  i)eo[)le.  Jeremiah 
apjieai's  to  have  taken  the  initiative  (xxvii.  o-L*:2).  Ho 
addressed  a  message  to  the  intriguing  kings  tluough  the 
and)assadors,  to  the  effect  that  Jehovah,  the  creator  and 
ruler  of  the  earth,  had  given  the  whole  known  world  int(v 
the  hand  of  Nebuchadrezzar,  king  of  Hal ly Ion,  his  "ser- 
vant" (cf.  Jer.  XXV.  Oand  §  tllo);  that  the  nation  which 
would  not  sid)mit  to  him  should  be  punished  with  the 
sword  and  famine  and  pestilence;  that  the  prophets, 
diviners,  dreanuMs,  soothsayers,  and  sorcerers,  who  had 
advised  them  to  rev(»ll,  had  merely  uttered  falsehoods. 
To  Zedekiah  also  the  word  was  sent,  that  he  and  his 
pc'o[>le  should  "bring  their  lu'cks  under  the  yoke  of  the 
king  of  Itabylon  and  live,"  that  they  nuist  tuin  a  deaf 

'  I  iisp  tlui  jihriisc  of  Jer.  xlviii.  11  and  (if  Cliiirlcs  Hcivlf,  Thf  Cltii.stir 
iiml  the  lliiirtli.  rli.  xxxiii.  wlu-ri'  the  Lrn-at  dramatist  siisr^icsts  llm  Iiurnns 
of  deportation  by  inakinj;  lis  sec  and  ffd  how  sad  a  tliinj;  it  is  evoii  ou  the 
Hnialicst  scale  and  in  the  least  distressiiiL'  form. 


!  Hi 


i:«i':: 


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in 


Ki 


5'     I' 


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l^ 


•   : 


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234 


A   BELLICOSE    I'KOl'HET 


Book  X 


ear  to  the  prophets  wlio  were  advising  insurrection.  An 
appeal  was  also  made  to  the  national  pride  in  the  temple 
and  its  appointments.  The  priests  were  addressed,  per- 
haps for  the  first  and  only  time  (xxvii.  IG),  and  were  told 
tiiat  in  case  of  a  revolt  the  sacred  vessels  still  remaining 
from  the  calamity  of  Jehoiachin  would  be  carried  away 
to  liahylon,  whereas  the  o[)posing  prophets  had  actually 
declared  that  those  already  deported  would  soon  be  re- 
stored. 

§  1158.  Provoked  by  these  utterances,  with  their  pun- 
gent rhetoric,  the  otlicial  rivals  of  Jeremiah  at  once  took 
up  the  public  challenge.  A  dramatic  scene  was  enacted 
when  a  certain  leader  tnmong  them,  from  the  priestly  city 
of  Cfibeon  (cf.  Josh.  xxi.  18,  17),  Ilananiah  by  name,  him- 
self also  perhaps  a  priest,  confronted  Jeremiah  in  the  temple 
in  the  presence  of  the  priests  and  the  worshipi)ers.  Jere- 
miah, to  make  his  message  more  impressive,  had  illus- 
trated liis  references  to  the  joke  of  Nebuchadrezzar  by 
wearing  in  public  a  wooden  yoke  upon  his  own  shoulders. 
His  antagonist,  full  of  the  schemes  for  revolt  to  which 
he  was  a  party,  and  pressing  for  sj)eedy  action,  boldly 
declared,  in  the  name  of  Jehovah  of  Hosts,  the  God  of 
Israel,  that  the  yoke  of  IJabylon  would  be  broken  within 
two  full  years,  that  the  vessels  of  the  temple  and  Jehoia- 
chin himself  would  be  restored  to  Jerusalem  along  with 
all  his  fclIow-ca[)tivcs  (Jer.  xxviii.  1-4).  This  was  a 
nnich  more  satisfactory  announcement  than  any  which 
Jeremiah  could  make.  It  suited  tlie  popular  mood  and 
tem[)er  exactly,  and  must  have  made  a  hero  of  Ilananiah 
on  the  instant.  Besides,  it  had  the  merit  of  explicitness, 
and  a  reasonably  brief  time  limit  was  set  as  a  test  of  its 
verit}'.  The  main  objection  to  it  was  that  to  have  the 
test  applied  would  involve  the  experiment  of  a  rebellion 
against  the  most  formidable  power  in  the  world,  wliich 
hail  already  brought  Jerusalem  and  its  beloved  tem[)lc  to 
the  verge  of  destruction,  and  had  only  given  them  a  par- 
tial respite  by  exceptional  clemency. 


Cii.  VII.  §  1150         A   SI'KCTACULAR   DEBATE 


286 


§  lloO.  To  offset  this  seductive  promise,  Jeieiniah 
could  ouly  express  liis  sympathy  with  the  patriotic  desire 
for  the  return  of  tlie  sacred  vessels  and  the  captives,  hut 
he  a(hled  the  warning  to  llananiah  that  just  as  in  the 
former  days,  the  surest  test  of  a  prophet's  divine  commis- 
sion is  the  fulfilment  of  his  specific  predictions  (vs.  0-l>). 
This  was  virtually  an  assertion  hy  Jeremiah  of  his  own 
superior  credentials  and  authority,  which  could  not  be  put 
down  by  a  counterclaim  on  the  part  of  his  rival.  llana- 
niah then  resorted  to  something  more  si)ectacular  and 
impressive.  He  took  the  bar  of  the  yoke  that  was  on  the 
neck  of  Jeremiah  and  broke  it  before  the  people,  saying, 
in  the  name  of  Jehovah,  "Even  so  will  I  break  the  yoke 
of  Nebuchadrezzar,  king  of  Babylon,  within  two  full 
years,  from  off  the  neck  of  all  the  nations."  As  there 
was  nothing  more  that  could  be  well  said  or  done,  Jere- 
miah went  his  way  ^  (vs.  10,  11).  This,  however,  was  not 
to  be  the  end  of  the  matter.  A  revelation  came  to  Jere- 
miah soon  thereafter,  that  the  yoke  of  wood  should  become 
a  yoke  of  iron,'^  for  Jehovah  had  put  yokes  of  iron  upon 
the  necks  of  all  the  nations  so  that  they  might  serve  the 
king  of  Babylon.  He  addressed  llananiah  as  follows: 
"Hear  now,  Hananiah,  Jehovah  hath  not  sent  me,  l)ut 
thou  makest  this  people  trust  in  falsehoods.  Therefore 
thus  saith  Jehovah,  'Behold  I  will  send  thee  away  from 
off  the  face  of  the  earth;  this  year  thou  shalt  die,  for  thou 

1  Cornill's  usuiil  sai^aoity  fails  liiiii  in  rt-jectiiiji  tlio  last  scntcTiro  of 
V.  11,  which  stands  in  the  Sept.  and  all  the  other  versions.  He  says  ■•  it, 
woidd  be  utter  nonsense  to  suppose  that  the  prophet,  after  this  action, 
jjoes  ((uietly  home  and  does  not  speak  what  follows  till  several  days  liavt? 
pitssed"  {Tfjrt  of  Jcrrminh,  p.  71).  Hut  there  is  no  indication  that  sev- 
eral days  passed  between  the  two  encounters.  On  the  contrary,  the 
lansuage  of  v.  12  implies,  accordinu  to  Hebrew  usaj^e,  that  the  second 
interview  followed  very  close  upon  the  first.  Most  probably  it  occurred 
the  very  sanu!  day,  while  the  people  were  still  discu.ssinj:  the  question  of 
the  hour ;  and  llananiah  may  have  remained  to  make  the  njost  of  the 
impression  already  excited. 

^  In  xxviii.  l;>,  for  "thou  shalt  make,"  read,  according  to  the  Sejit., 
♦'I  will  make." 


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pr 


2.16 


MISTAKKN   PATRIOTISM 


liooK  X 


luist  Spoken  sedition  against  Jehovah.'  "  And,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  faet,  Ilananiah  died  two  months  after  tlie  publie 
eontroversy.  Tlius  the  victory  remained  linally  with 
Jeremiali,  the  propliet  of  tlie  greater  resonree. 

§  1100.  We  can  hardly  regiet  the  issue,  though  we 
may  leeoil  from  the  violent  measures  that  preceded  it. 
We  need  not  su[)i)ose  that  the  death  of  Ilananiah  was 
accelerated  by  remorse  for  evil  deeds.  Professional 
proi)liet  as  he  was  (§  100<J),  he  was  no  conscious  deceiver, 
though  he  was  a  mischievous  fanatic.  The  folly  of  his 
policy  did  not  wholly  consist  in  its  short-sighted  ignoring 
of  the  logic  of  events.  'I'he  fact  that  he  had  the  evil 
elements  in  the  state  at  liis  hack  should  have  made  him 
liesitate  about  promoting  their  designs.  Doubtless  many 
plausible  reasons  suggested  themselves  to  him  in  justili- 
eation  of  his  course  (cf.  §  1154).  At  bottoni  his  error 
was  tlie  still  very  connnon  one  of  imagining  that  true 
patriotism  demands  resistance  to  a  foreign  yoke,  at  any 
moral  or  material  cost.  He  stood  rather  for  Jehovah  king 
of  Zion  than  for  Jehovah  king  of  righteousness ;  and  he 
became  a  victim  of  the  stern  exigencies  of  tlie  conflict 
that  was  waged  up(m  that  issue.  ^ 

§  1101.  The  advocates  of  rebellion  now  ceased  their 
agitation  for  a  time,  partly,  we  may  assume,  on  account  of 
the  signal  triumi)h  of  Jeremiah.  The  death  of  Ilananiah 
gave  him  a  momentary  ascendency  in  Jerusalem,  and  he 
used  his  advantage  to  the  full.  It  is  to  this  period  that 
we  have  to  assign  the  remarkable  series  of  discourses  con- 
tained in  chs.  xxii.  and  xxiii.  of  his  book.  The  reminis- 
cences of  the  earlier  reigns  (xxii.  10-30)  we  have  already 
dealt  with  (§  1080,  1122,  1144).  They  were  intended  to 
point  a  moral  for  Zedekiah,  who  is  adjured  (xxii.  1-0)  to 
execute  justice  and  righteousness,  and  deliver  the  wronged 

'  Tlie  case  of  Iliinaiiinh  is  well  treated  by  Heiiiiett,  The  Hook  of  Jere- 
miah.  xxi.-lii.,  p.  115  ff.  His  coiittlct  with  Jei-einiah  is  discussed  by 
Trofesscir  Konig,  of  Rostock  (now  of  Bonn),  in  the  Hunday  School  Times, 
Kov.  20,  1808,  not  quite  impartially. 


«np 


mmmmmi 


wm 


(11.  VII,  §  1102       KIX(JS  AND   I'UOI'IIKTS   IXDICTKD 


237 


from  the  hiuid  of  tlio  o[)i)rL'ssor.  If  this  siivin<(  counsel 
wiTf  heeded,  (iveii  his  own  totterin<^  throne  wouhl  he  nuide 
j(er})etuiil  ;  hut  if  not,  the  royal  house  should  hei'oine  n 
desohition.  "For  thus  saith  .Jehovah:  Thou  art  (Jih-ad 
to  me  and  the  summit  of  Lei»anon,  yet  I  will  make  of  thee 
a  wilderness  and  cities  uuiidiabited."  Then  the  ruk-rs  of 
the  jx'ople  genei-aliy  are  adfiressed  hy  Jehovah  ijnder  the 
name  of  '' the  shepherds  tliat  destroy  and  scatter  the  sheep 
of  my  pasture"  (xxiii.  1-4).  In  contrast  to  these  recre- 
ants and  the  unworthy  kin^s  just  characterized,  the  j^jri-at 
declaration  is  made  :  "  Behold  the  days  ai't;  coniinuf,  siiith 
Jehovah,  wheji  I  will  raise;  up  to  David  a  ri<,diteous  scion, 
and  he  shall  reij^n  as  kin<^  and  deal  wisely,  and  sliall  <lo 
justiie  and  righteousness  in  the  land  .  .  .  and  this  is 
the  name  wlierewith  lie  shall  he  ealhid,  'Jehovah  is  our 
Uighteousness'  "  ^  (xxiii.  .O,  (>).  'I'o  this  is  appended  the 
magniticent  conception  so  charac^teristie  of  Jeremiah,  that 
the  time  would  come  when  even  the  deliveram-e  from 
Egypt  shoidd  be  held  as  insignitieant  compared  with  the 
restoration  of  the  exiles  from  all  their  places  of  eaptivity 
(xxiii.  7,  8  ;  (;f.  xvi.  14  f.). 

§  11(52.  IJut  it  is  to  "the  prophets"  that  .Teremiah 
mainly  devoted  himself  during  this  crisis.  Tliis  was  the 
opportunity  of  his  life  to  deal  with  his  rivals  on  e(jual 
terms.  He  had  before  said  many  bitter  words  and  made 
many  com[)laints  against  them  ;  now  hv.  arraigns  them 
formally,  on  well-considered  gnninds.  Some  of  the  main 
j)oints  in  the  indictment  are  these:  Hi;  declares  tliat  he  is 
com[)letely  stunned  and  unmanned  bei^ause  of  the  awful 
eonseipiences,  past,  present,  and  to  come,  of  the  wii^kedness 
of  the  lu'ople  to  which  they  have  been  instigated  by  priests 
and  pro[)hets,  so  that  the  hind  has  been  made  like  Soihmi 
anil  (Jomorrah  (xxiii.  D-lo).  To  distinguish  between  the 
true  and  false  proi)hets  he  claims  that  the;  latter  utter  a 
vision  out  of  their  own  mind,  and  not  the  word  of  Jehovah 

1  With  I'viilcnt  rcft'ifiicc  to  the  iiiiiiu'  "  Zf<Uki'iili  "  (§  114S). 


I  -i 


."J 

V 


^ 


t: 


238 


THE   DOWNFALL  OF  ELAM 


Rook  X 


(v.  1(3 ;  cf.  xiv.  14).  They  also  invariahly  promise  good 
fortune  to  the  wicked,  an  impossible  event  in  the  very 
nature  of  things  (vs.  17-20).  Moreover,  if  they  had  been 
in  the  counsel  of  Jehovah,  they  would  have  turned  the 
people  from  their  evil  ways  and  deeds  (vs.  21,  22). 
Jehovah,  who  fills  heaven  and  earth,  sees  throtigh  even 
the  most  plausible  delusion  and  exposes  the  pr(!tence  of 
impostors.  They  rely  merely  upon  empty  dreams.  Hut 
the  true  prophet  receives  and  dccilarcs  the  innnediate 
wonl  of  Jehovah.  The  one  is  chaff  ;  the  other  wheat. 
In  contrast  to  the  elusive  and  unsubstantial  dream,  the 
genuine  word  is  "like  a  fire  and  like  a  hammer  that  breaks 
the  rock  in  pieces"  (vs.  23-29). 

§  lir>;j.  Intense  as  was  Jeremiah's  anxiety  for  the  moral 
betterment  and  political  safety  of  his  fellow-citizens,  he 
was  not  so  preoccupied  as  to  ignore  the  condition  and 
the  fate  of  his  brethren  in  exile.  Indeed,  at  this  very 
moment,  his  mind  was  exercised  about  the  final  fate  not 
only  of  Judah  in  bondage  at  home  and  faraway,  but  also  of 
the  Babylonian  oppressor  whose  fall  was  to  bring  about  the 
liberation  of  his  people  (cf.  Jcr.  xxv.  12  IT.;  xxvii.  7,  22). 
Such  is  the  motive  of  his  utterance  made  "in  the  begin- 
ning of  the  reign  of  Zedekiah"  (Jer.  xlix.  34  ff.)  ^  with 
regard  to  the  downfall  of  Khun.  In  this  passage,  the 
impending  subjugation  of  Elam  is  announced.  The  con- 
quering people  are  not  named;  but  it  is  not  dillicult  to 
find  out  who  they  were.  The  time  limit  is  fixed  by  the 
representation  of  Ezekiel  (xxxii.  24  f.)  regarding  Klam  in 
.')8G  B.C.  (xxxii.  17),  according  to  which  that  country 
had  lately  been  crushed  by  a  foreign  power.  On  the  other 
hand,  Elam  had  a  king  of  its  own  in  004  ii.c.  (Jer.  xxv.  25). 
The  i)rophecy  was  presumably  uttered  in  connection  with 
the  military  preparations  that  were   being  made  by  the 

1  The  genuinenesH  of  this  prnjilu'cy  lias  been  disputeil  by  several  crit- 
ics, e.g.  by  (Jiesebreciit.  Dan  Unrh  Joremin,  p.  245  f.  Ills  principal  ol»- 
jection  is  that  "  a  Hi)ecial  oracle  aj,'ainst  Elain  in  tlie  time  of  .loreniiah  is 
very  surprising  in  view  of  the  great  distance  of  the  Klamites  from  Judiea." 


Cii.  VII,  §  llUo        TIlurtJIlTS  UF  TIIK    KXILKS 


•j;iw 


ag<^ressivt'  power,  and  wliicli  wcri!  known  to  tin*  Ilehrows  in 
exilt*  iis  wt'U  iis  t(»  other  residents  of  Hiihyloniii.  Aceonl- 
iiijL^ly  the  fall  of  Khini  took  place  about  ")!>')  ii.c.,'  when  it 
beiiune  snhjeet  to  the  little  kinj^doni  of  I'ersis.  Thus 
tiereniiiih,  tiie  [)roi)het  of  exile,  links  himself  with  the  earli- 
est of  tiiose  movements  whieh  liniiUy  leil  to  the  overthrow 
of  the  (Mialdican  power  and  the  liberation  of  his  people 
from  their  eai)tivity  hy  Cyrus,  "kini;  of  Anshan"  (i^iam), 
"  kin-,'  «)f  Tersia,"  and  "  kinj^  of  IJai»ylon  "  (5^  1;}H:>  IT. ). 

§  11<)4.  This  was  the  most  wide-reaehintf  of  the  visions 
of  Jeremiah.  His  thoughts,  whieh  so  often  crossed  the 
Desert  and  tlie  Kiver,  lingered  among  the  canals,  the 
pasture-grounds,  and  the  ten^jled  cities  of  Babylonia. 
Many  of  the  comitainons  of  his  youth  were  there.  There 
were  those  who  had  sheltered  him  from  cruel  wrong  in 
his  lifehing  struggle,  those  by  wlu)m  he  had  once  hoped 
to  save  the  state  of  Israel.  There  were  his  best  pu[)ils 
in  the  school  of  prophecy,  above  all,  the  idealistic,  intrepid 
Ezekiel,  to  whom  he  ha<l  becjueathed  the  spiritual  guidance 
of  the  colon}'.  There  was  the  better  part  of  Israel  awaiting 
its  puritication  and  deliverance.  He  was  also  sujiported  in 
tins  sentimental  regard  for  the  renniant  of  Israel  in  cap- 
tivity by  the  close  political  and  civil  relations  maintained 
with  them  from  the  beginning  by  the  people  of  Jerusalem. 

§  1105.  Captivity  could  not  sever  the  bond  that  united 
the  exiles  with  the  home-land,  because  their  solidaiity  was 
not  merely  political  or  social.  The  blow  dealt  by  Nebu- 
chadrezzar to  Judah  was  one  almost  to  the  death;  ])Ut 
scarcely  had  it  been  given  when  the  per[)et\ial  [taiadox  of 
Israel's  vitality  asserted  itself  in  a  new  and  sur[)rising 
form.  The  hoi)e  of  the  ultimate  redemption  of  their 
l)eoi)le  was  a  necessary  [tart  of  the  faith  of  the  true 
prophets ;  and  as  the  prospect  of  a  regeneration  in 
Jehovah's  own  land  grew  faint,  the  assurance  was  more 
and  more  borne  in  upon   them    that  it  would  be  aceom- 

'  Cf.  Meypr,  fJ.A.  I,  §  4(1(1,  wlio.  from  tlic  same  duta,  chooses  oW)  as 
the  year  uf  tliu  IVrsiau  uouquutil  uf  lOlaui. 


':■■ 


y\<. 


:' 

1               L 

; 

';  I 

i 

' 

240 


(}(»0|)   AND   HAD   FKJS 


Hook  X 


plislied  by  tho  discipline  of  exile.  Thus  what  had  Injeii 
regiU'diul  and  set  forth  as  the  climax  of  all  national  and 
personal  woes  (§  301;  of.  §  10o9  and  Dent,  xxviii.  ti4  ft'.) 
came  to  bo  viewed  and  dealt  with  as  a  saving  and  puri- 
fying process  of  educatioh.  Hence  an  interest  in  the  al)- 
sentees  of  Israel  began  to  be  cherished  by  tho  propliets 
proi>ortionat(!  to  tluMr  despair  of  the  remnant  which  souglit 
to  maintain  the  throne  of  David  in  Jerusalem. 

§  1  !(>♦>.  This  new  attitude  of  pro[»he('y  is  vividly  shown 
in  a  "vision  "of  Ji-remiah,  vouchsafed  to  him  apparently 
very  soon  after  tho  departure  of  Jehoiachin  and  his  fellow- 
exiles  (Jer.  xxiv.  1  ft'.).  Two  baskets  of  figs  placed  as  an 
oftVring  before  the  temple,  the  one  of  them  having  very 
good  and  the  other  very  bad  fruit,  set  foith  rcs[)ectively 
tho  exiles  and  the  people  of  Jerusalem.'  'J'he  foiiner 
were  to  be  built  up  and  restored  to  their  homes,  an<l 
shoidd  return  to  Jehovah  with  their  whole  heart.  The 
hitter  were  to  be  tossed  hither  and  thither  among  the 
nations  and  be  consumed  by  the  sword  and  famine  and 
pestilence.  The  central  and  essential  truth  of  this  pre- 
(liction  is  a  matter  of  history.  With  the  hyperbole  that 
marks  the  representation  the  readers  of  proi)hecy  are 
familiar. 

§  1107.  The  first  steps  in  the  struggle  against  the  revo- 
lutionists at  home  had  ended  with  the  death  of  Ilananiah 
(v^  lloO).  The  danger  of  rebellion  had  passed  for  the  time. 
Hut  a  new  danger  had  been  aroused  by  the  agitation.  The 
embassy  of  the  neighbours  of  Judah  apparently  excited 
the  sus[)icions  of  Nebuchadrezzar.  At  any  rate  Zedekiah 
and  the  court  found  it  advisable  to  send  messengers  to 

>  With  tlicm  arc  assuriati'd  "tlmsi!  that  (Iwi-ll  in  the  land  of  Kj-ypt  " 
(xxiv.  S).  Tiiis  tlivision  of  the  (lispcrsed  of  Isnu'l  iiicliidfd  nut  only  llmsi! 
who  were  earned  away  with  .Ii'iioaiiaz  (§  lOl!!*).  hut  pnihahly  many  fiii,'i- 
tiv»'8  also,  wlio  wouhl  attacli  ihcm.si'ivL'.s  to  the  littii-  cok)iiy  as  to  a 
nncloiis.  Tlio  reference  is  instructive.  (1)  as  it  sets  forth  tlie  disfavour 
witli  which  Kfiypt  was  always  rejiarded  by  tiie  proi)hets  ;  (2)  as  it  illus- 
trates the  hopelessness  of  any  sort  of  association  with  "  Hahab  "  (Isa. 
XXX.  7)  and  \{»  futile  intrigues  and  alliances. 


Cii.  VII,  §  lUJO      A    DKlTTATinx   AND   A    LETTKU 


f41 


Uabylonia  to  assure  liim  of  tlunr  loyalty.*  The  logati'8 
were  friends  of  tleremiah  (.ler.  xxix.  3),  one  of  tlicni, 
Klasali,  being  a  brother  of  Ahikani,  ami  the  other,  Clenui- 
riah,  sonof  llilkiah  (§  1118).  The  opportunity  was  there- 
fore seized  by  the  pro[)het  to  send  a  messenger  to  the  leadens 
of  the  coh)ny. 

§  1108.  This  letter  with  its  appendix  is  Jerenuah's 
chief  eontribution  to  the  history  of  Israel  in  Kxile.  Fol- 
lowing up  the  motive  of  the  visi(»n  of  the  figs  (§  llGt)) 
Jeremiah  seeks  to  counteract  the  efforts  of  those  prophets 
who  were  trying  to  persuade  the  exiles  that  they  were 
soon  to  return  to  JerusaleJu.  lie  urges  them  to  make 
themselves  at  home  in  Uabylonia,  to  build  houses,  plant 
gardens,  take  wives  and  rear  families;  also  to  seek  the 
welfare  of  the  country  of  their  banishment,  if  it  were 
merely  for  their  own  sakes  as  its  residents.  For  there 
would  be  no  rettU'iiing  to  Jerusalem  till  seventy  years 
should  pass.  Yet  Jehovah  would  watch  over  them  with 
"thoughts  of  peace  and  not  of  evil,"  and  they  woidd  bo 
led  to  "seek  Jehovah  with  their  whole  heart."  As  for  the 
king  that  reignetl  in  Jerusalem  and  his  peojde,  their  doom 
was  fixed  ;  Jehovah  himself  would  pui-sue  them  with  sword 
and  famine  and  pestilence  and  scatter  them  among  the 
nations  (xxix.  4-20). 

§  11(11).  The  letter  as  it  api)ears  in  our  present  texts* 
contains  an  instructive  notice  (xxix.  21-i>i')  of  the  effort.s 

1  This  caniuit  liave  bi-cii  llic  first  n-iidtiiiii;  <>f  lu'inuire  hy  Zt'clckiali  in 
coiiiu'ctinii  witli  liis  accfshidii,  u.s  ini^lii  be  iiifirrtil  fnnii  xxix.  "J,  fur  tins 
CDiiti'iits  of  .IiTfiiiiali's  U'livr  iiiipiy  tlial  tin'  culniiy  in  IJaliylonia  lia<l  been 
in  exisU-nrc  for  snnu'  little  time  ;  see  esix-iially  vs.  s.  it.  1.".,  21,  'J4  IT. 

-  I  ann-t'  with  rornill  that  vs.  22  '<-;ll  n  tlitl  n-it  fmin  part  of  the  Icttir 
of  .Ifn-iniah,  but  with  added  by  tiie  autlior  of  the  narrative  jiortion  of  tlm 
book.  Tlie  answer  of  Shemaiah  to  the  letter  (v.s.  2t>-2H)  and  the  fnllii- 
ment  of  the  prediction  airainst  Ah.ib  and  /edekiali  (vs.  22  l>.  2:!)  are  on 
the  face  of  them  supplementary,  (iiesel)n'cht.  D'm  Ihirh  Jfrimiuf),  \).  xv, 
154,  looks  upon  the  whole  chapter  as  ])art  ol  the  niemoirs  of  Haruch, 
of  which  vs.  ii-2'A  eontain  his  recollection  of  the  contents  of  tlie  letter. 
This  is  not  in  itself  impossible  ;  but  the  interpulations  are  nut  in  accunl- 
ancc  with  llarurh's  method. 


n 


I  I- '.I 


If 


IT 


f    ■ 


'1 


B!    r 


t  - 


,     I- 


242 


MISCIIIEF-MAKEWS   IN   KXILE 


n«M>K  X 


made  by  certain  of  llie  exiles  to  break  the  force  of  Jere- 
miah's apiKjals  and  to  undermine  his  influence  generally 
at  liome  and  abroad.  Foremost  among  them  were  three, 
named  Ahab,  Zedekiah,  and  Shemaiah.  Fired  with  mis- 
taken patriotism,  and  trusting  that  some  political  change 
might  relesise  them  from  captivity,  they  were  enraged  that 
Jeremiah  should  seem  to  shatter  all  hopes  of  restoration. 
It  is  not  im[)robable  that  Ahab  and  Zedckiali  committed 
some  overt  act  of  sedition  in  Babylonia.  It  is  significant 
that  these  ultimately  underwent  the  horrible  fate  of  being 
burnt  alive  by  Nebuchadrezzar  —  a  punishment  often 
enough  inflicted  by  Assyrian  kings  u[)on  rebels.'  The 
magnanimous  Nebuchadrezzar  w(mld  scarcely  ordain  such 
a  punishment  for  any  other  crime.  The  additional  charge 
of  adultery  (v.  23)  is  an  illustration  of  the  moral  plane 
upon  which  these  degenerate  prophets  moved. 

§  1170.  The  other  case,  that  of  Shemaiah  (xxix.  24  fT.) 
throws  also  a  reflected  light  upon  affairs  at  Jerusalem, 
lie  sent  a  letter  to  the  "second  priest"  Zeiihaniah  (see 
2  K.  XXV.  18),  citing  Jeremiah's  message  to  the  exiles  and 
imploring  him  to  use  his  authority  to  put  the  obnoxious 
fanatic  "  in  the  stocks  and  in  shackles."  Zcphaniah 
contented  himself  with  reading  the  letter  to  Jeremiah, 
and  took  no  action.  The  position  of  Jeremiah  had  im- 
proved since  the  days  of  Jehoiakim.  A  jtriest  as  a  state 
oflicial  is  here  called  upon  to  suppress  a  projjhet  (cf. 
§  10»]»»).  Ze[)haniah  is  invoked  as  an  oflicer  of  the  tem[»le, 
■  .1(1  the  punishment,  here  cunningly  suggested,  was  the 
si'.me  as  that  already  inflicted  upon  Jeremiah  by  the  lii-st 
olVicer  of  the  temple,  Pashhur  (§  1111).  It  is  als») 
siirewdly  insinuated  in  the  description  of  Jeremiah  as 
a  crazy,  self-intoxicated  prophet  (v.  2^\)  that  the  public 
safety  recpiired  his  arrest.  The  reply  of  Jereniiah  was  in 
the  form  of  a  message  to  the  whole  colony,  to  the  effect 
that  Jis  Shemaiah  had  usur[)ed  the  function  of  a  prophet 


»  Cf.  K(jF.  1..  r)i>0  f.,  Tick'.  n.VO.  510  f.,  ami  Dan.  ill.  fl  ff. 


rii.  VII.  §  1172 


rUOSTHATlOX   ((F   ZKDKKIAII 


243 


U 
•t 


of  Jehovah  he  should  be  left  childless  camong  his  people. 
What  a  vivid  jticture  these  iiicideiits  (r\\v,  us  of  the  [>er- 
petual  strife  between  the  claimants  to  divine  ins})iration  ! 
And  what  a  baekgroimd  do  we  see!  A  hulf-<lesperate 
people  are  looking  contijiually  for  direction  to  their 
spiritual  guides,  and  are  only  brouglit  to  a  teiniiontry 
acipiiescenco  in  right  principles  by  the  triumph  of  a  true 
prophet  through  an  api)eal  to  the  divine  vengeance ! 
Three  times  have  we  seen  Jeremiah  vamjuish  an  (»ppo- 
nent  by  cursing  him  in  the  name  of  Jehovah  (ef.  §  ll.V.t, 
IIGO). 

§  1171.  The  embass}'  sent  b}'  the  king  of  Judah  seems 
not  to  have  .satisfied  Nebuchadrezzar.  The  Cireat  Kiiii; 
was,  however,  appeased  by  the  coming  of  Zedekiah  in 
jH-r.son  in  the  course  of  the  same  year  594  (Jer.  li.  6l>). 
To  the  poor  suppliant  the  lesson  should  have  Ix  en  salu- 
tary. The  long  journey,  the  drea;l  of  sterner  punishment, 
the  humiliating  ceremony  of  piostiation  and  ju'nitence, 
the  oath  of  allegiance  before  Hel  and  Merodac'i,  these  'vere 
things  which  must  have  (pienched  in  him  any  thought  of 
future  rebellion.  Indt'ed,  if  he  had  been  left  to  liin)self 
he  would  probably  not  liave  cherished  the  lirst  seditious 
project,  and  certainly  would  not  have  countenanced  the 
second.  His  tragic  career  is  a  tale  of  weakness  rather  than 
of  deliberate  folly  or  wickedness. 

§  1172.  Hut  the  punishment  came  to  Zedekiah  and  to 
his  country  all  the  same.  Nor  could  his  truest  fiiend  or 
counsellor  say  liiat  it  Wiis  undeserved  or  that  the  (hal- 
(heans  were  the  wrong-doei-s  in  the  work  of  punishujent. 
It  was  the  fate  of  Jeremiah  to  defend  this  paradox  all 
through  his  prophetic  career,  though  as  ho  was  no  specula- 
tive poet  like  Habakkuk,  wlu)  made  the  paradox  immortal 
(§  Hill  ff.),  he  left  the  solution  to  Ji'hovah,  and  mule  tlie 
grief  his  own.  He  had,  lutwever,  this  partial  compensa- 
tion, the  assurance  that  the  <listurbed  lKilanc(»  of  justice 
would  be  rectified  by  the  destruction  of  liabylon  herself. 
Perhaps   it  was  wfth  some  such  feeling  as  this  that  he 


w 


1.11 


1 

1 

■  ^ 
,■,- 

if- 

■)  : 


244 


JEREMIAH   TO   TIIK    EXILES 


Book  X' 


gave  a  special  commission  to  Zeclekiah's  courier-attend- 
ant, Seraiah,  the  brother  of  Baruch  (cf.  Jer.  xxxii.  12).* 
Seraiah  was  charged  to  read  to  the  exiles  all  the  words  of 
doom  that  had  been  spoken  concerning  Babylon.  Then, 
when  he  had  finished  the  reading,  he  was  to  bind  a  stone 
to  the  roll  and  cast  it  into  the  Euplnates,  saying,  "  Thus 
shall  liabylon  sink,  and  shall  not  rise  again."  In  thinking 
of  the  discipline  of  the  captivity  we  must  not  leave  this 
lesson  out  of  account.  Here  were  the  exiles  bidden  to 
make  Babylonia  their  home,  since  their  proper  home  was 
to  be  made  desolate.  But  the  time  was  coming  wlien 
Jerusalem  should  be  free  and  Babylon  be  the  ca^jtive. 
Yet  not  at  once,  not  till  one  generation  and  anotlier 
should  have  passed  away.  The  exiles  were  to  live  in 
hope,  not  for  themselves  but  f(n"  their  country  and  their 
religion.  That  is  to  say,  they  were  summoned  to  lives  of 
self-saciifico.  Without  such  a  discipline  of  st'H'-renuiici  i- 
tion,  with  its  ministry  of  faith  and  liope,  the  great  n  !<>!;> - 
tion  itself  would  have  come  in  vain  I  It  is  thus  from  ilic 
most  practical  of  the  proplicts  that  wo  learn  best  what  a 
vitalizing  and  restorative  force  i)ropbec)'  was  to  Israel. 
By  this,  rather  than  by  the  death  of  Ilananiah,  he  showed 
that  he  was  the  messenger  of  .lehovah. 

§  117.3.  Tiiis  message,  so  germinal  and  potential,  was 
Jeremiah's  last  direct  service  to  the  exiles  of  5U7.''*  With 
this  his  work  for  them  was  iinished.  Preaching  must  be 
specilic,  prompt,  and  pertinent,  else  it  is  unavailing.  From 
distant  Jerusalem  he  could  not  continue  such  a  crusade 
as  that  which  he  had  begun  against  the  false  prophets. 
But  both  his  j)olemic  and  his  teaching  were  at  once  taken 
up  and  developed  b}''  a  prophet  of  their  own  who  had  long 
been  in  training  for  the  work. 

'  The  choice  of  one  bo  close  to  .Icniniiili  for  tliLs  rcspoiiHiblt!  position 
duriiiK  t '«  jonrnt'y  '^'*  I'vidence  Uiat  tho  prophet  stood  well  with  Zedekiah, 
at  h-ast  at  this  jiinrturc. 

'''Jer.  xxx.-xxxiii.,  which  deal  mainly  with  the  final  restorntioii,  iii- 
riudc.  of  coiirsi',  the  exiles  of  the  first  deportatit»n  ;  but  the  outlook  and 
treatment  are  throuj,'hout  general  and  compreiiensive. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

EZEKIEL  IN   EXILE  AND  THE  HOME-LAND 

§  1174.  Jeremiah  relinquished  the  role  of  prophet  to 
the  exiles  in  51)3  ii.c,  and  in  5U2  Ezekiel  assumed  it 
(Ez.  i.  2).  Hut  Ezekiel  though  in  exile  was  also  a 
prophet  of  Jerusalem.  He  thus  fulfilled  a  douljle  func- 
tion more  completely  than  did  his  master  Jeremiah.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  him  as  re^'anls  his  profession  and  life- 
work.  He  was  priest  and  pro[)het  in  one  more  fully  than 
any  other  Israelite,  or  indeed  than  any  Christian  except, 
perhaps,  Savonarola,  though  no  meie  man  can  combine  the 
priestly  and  the  prophetic  character  in  com[ileteness  and 
harmony,  Jeremiah  was  also  of  priestly  birth,  but  he 
seems  to  have  discarded  the  lessons  of  his  youth,  or  perha[)S 
rather  to  have  outgrown  them.  To  Ezekiel.  who  in  exile 
was  debarred  from  the  sacerdotal  functions  which  from  the 
surroundings  had  perliaps  never  Ik'vix  congenial  to  him 
in  Jerusalem,  cluncf  to  the  priestly  habit  of  thought  all 
through  life.  Ke  became  a  theologian,  while  Jeremiah 
remaintul  always  merely  a  leligious  man,  and  tliereiu  was 
the  greater  prophet,  re[)lete  with  spoiitantsous  power  be- 
cause full  of  human  symi)athy  and  iiassi<in.'  Ezekiel  was 
somewhat  cloistral,  always  meditative  and  idealistic,  vet 
withal  intensely  practiisal  and  statesmanlike  in  a  large 
constructive  fashion.  In  him  the  idea  of  the  theocracy 
was  matured.  The  kingdom  of  (lod  was  for  him  scmie- 
thing  built  up  out  of  t!ie  people  of  his  choice  according  to 

>  In  thia  and  in  some  utlier  respects,  Jeremiah  was  to  Kzekiil  ns 
Luther  to  Calvin. 

84S 


M 


III 


m 


I 

m 


;  ."a 

'ill 
I' 

I 

I ' 


!i 


1 

pr 

R 

:i     ■  t  ■ 

t 

1 

\ 
'•I 

i 

]■ 

); 

!■■ 
■1 

1                          1 

i 

V 

t 

24({ 


THOUGHT  AND  STYLK  OF   EZEKIEL 


BlHlK  \ 


principle  and  method.  Yet  tliis  process  was  of  the  moral 
order  throughout,  aiid  Kzekiel,  as  he  developed  his  system 
in  vision  and  reflection,  di<l  the  work  of  a  unique  priestly 
prophet  in  layiiig  a  foundation  of  righteousness  and  holi- 
ness for  a  new  kingdom  of  Jeliovah. 

§  1175.  The  glory  of  Ezekiel  has  been  olwcured  partly 
oy  his  lack  of  mental  and  rhetorical  tact  and  grace,  but 
still  more  by  the  corruptions  of  his  text,  Avliicli  have  pre- 
vented his  readers  from  getting  readily  at  h"s  mean- 
ing. His  composition  is  laborious  and  massive,  built  up 
of  many  details.  His  style  as  well  as  his  intellect  itself 
has  rightly  been  called  architectonic,'  and  it  therefore 
suffei-s  all  the  more  by  api)arent  imperfection,  jis  a  care- 
fully planned  structure  is  marred  b^'  the  <lislocation  of  a 
stone  or  the  fall  of  a  column.  But  the  few  that  have 
studied  him  profoundly  have  been  most  impressed  with 
the  depth  and  sublimity  of  his  thought.  His  long-drawn- 
out  visions  are  anything  but  visionary  :  in  them  his  imagi- 
nation bodies  forth  the  profoundest  convictions  known  to 
the  ancient  world  of  the  divine  holiness,  majesty,  and  spirit- 
uality. In  this  he  imitates  and  advances  beyond  Isaiah 
(§  1170,  note).  The  same  largeness  of  view  is  shown  in 
his  conception  of  the  providential  guidance  of  Israel  under 
the  grace  and  omnipotence  of  a  God  supreme  among  the 
nations  (ch.  xx.).  In  the  somewhat  less  congenial  but 
more  dilTicult  s[»here  of  human  nature  and  its  divine  edu- 

•  SkiiiiiiT,  art.  '*  Kzt'kii-l,"  in  DIJ.  Tliis  and  CornilPH  Hketcli  in  Ixntil. 
]*riti)futis>inin  (181KJ)  an.'  aiuon;;  tiie  bt'st  estiniates  of  the  proplu-t  tiiat 
have  been  written.  (Jood  eonuncnturies  on  Kzekiel  are  not  abundant, 
but  they  are  more  iniinerons  ihui  those  on  .lereiniaii.  Davidson,  in  tlie 
Cnmhritlijf  JiHil''  for  Srhnoh  (IHlMi).  and  Skinner,  in  tlie  Kj-pi>sitnr\i 
Jtililc  series,  are  exeellent  within  tlieir  imvetical  limits.  More  eritieal. 
tiioni;li  less  expository,  are  Smend  ( IHHO.  seei>nd  edition  of  llitzi;;.  1S47) 
and  Ilertholet  (iHOT).  Orelll  (ISSH)  is  instructive,  thomih  too  eon- 
Bervalive.  The  text  is  trealed  in  the  work  of  Cornill.  Dux  lUnh  <li'x 
Proph.  K:^'rhicl  (ISHrt)  and  tliat  of  Toy  in  SHOT.  (ISiMt).  A  referenee 
to  Driver,  Iiilnnl.,  or  to  Kwalil's  work  in  his  I'mphpti'n,  is  almost  sujjer- 
fluouH.  A  study  of  the  style  and  the  lo^'ieal  and  literary  inetliod  of 
Kzekiel  is  indispensable  for  even  a  iteneral  understandini;  of  his  writini,'s. 


^w 


Oh.  VIII,  §  1170      HIS   INTEREST   IN  JERUSALEM 


247 


cation,  he  is  less  independent,  following  Jereniiiih  in  iiis 
doctrine  of  the  new  heart  and  right  spirit  (xi.  ID;  xviii. 
31 ;  xxxvi ;  26,  cf.  Jer.  xxiv.  7 ;  xxxii.  &!•)  and  setting 
forth  more  fully  and  inductively  the  great  princi[)le  of 
individual  responsibility  (ch.  xviii.;  cf.  Jer.  xxxi.  20  f.). 
His  inrtucnce  on  the  history  of  his  people  is  not  easily 
estimated  in  a  sentence  or  two,  but  will  appear  clearly  in 
the  coui-se  of  our  narrative. 

§  117<3.  We  think  first  of  his  interest  in  the  life  and 
fate  of  Jerusalem  during  the  four  ycai-s  that  intervene 
until  the  final  rebellion.  Me  is  all  the  more  drawn  to 
prophesy  of  Jerusalem  because  his  fellow-exiles  are  unwill- 
ing to  hear  him  (iii.  7  ff.).^  The  fortunes  of  the  home-land, 
viewed  in  the  light  of  its  tragic  and  sinful  past,  furnished 
an  ample  field  to  his  uncurbed  imagination.  It  was  mainly 
for  this  part  of  his  work  that  he  was  prepared  by  those 
wonderful  visions '^  which  were  vouchsafed  to  liim  by  the 


*  It  iR  after  he  ceases  to  be  a  public  censor  (iii.  22-27)  that  he  sees  tlio 
woes  of  .lerusalt'iii  (ch.  iv.  IT,).  Hut  the  references  to  th«'  i)|)ii()sitinM  of 
liis  feilow-e.xiles  must  not  be  unilerstood  too  literally,  and  the  allusion  to 
violence  in  iii.  25  is  of  course  to  be  takfu  ivs  a  part  of  tiic  ixencral  reprr- 
sentation.  In  the  first  four  years  of  exile  he  was  naturally  in  Hyinjialliy 
with  the  efforts  of  Jeremiah  to  discourage  the  liopes  of  a  sjieedy  return 
(cf.  §  1I()8),  and  doubtless  he  was  looked  upon  with  extreme  disfavmir 
by  the  opposing  prophets  and  their  party.  Hut  after  the  sidnnission  nf 
kini;  Zedekiah  at  Mabylon,  and  the  execution  of  the  rin!;leaders  A  hub 
and  Zedekiah  (§  ll<i!>),  there  would  not  be  so  much  open  antafioiiism. 
On  the  contrary,  we  read  of  the  i-lders  of  the  people  at  this  very  |>eriod 
coming  ie;;nlarly  to  consult  him  (viii.  1  ;  xiv.  1  ;  xx.  1 ),  and  at  a  latei  time 
tlie  people  >jen«'rally  are  rei)resented  a.s  resortiiifi  to  him  to  hear  his  ills- 
courses  with  ^:reat  show  nf  interest  (xxxiii.  :'>nff.  )•  He  was  sepmati  d 
from  tliem  by  a  spiritual  and  m<>ral  chasm  and  repulsion  lather  than  by 
personal  enmity. 

2  'I'hese  visions  stand  above  rather  thnii  upon  flie  arena  of  historical 
action,  and  do  not  enter  into  the  main  current  of  the  life  and  tl  nuht 
that  give  character  to  Israel  and  form  the  normal  basis  fif  Revelation. 
It  is  hii,'hl>  probable  that  the  original  sii>;y;estion  (  I.hm.  \i. )  fnrnislHd  by 
the  cherubim  of  the  tem]  le,  was  enlarned  by  familiarity  with  the  im- 
posiaj?  yet  ^'rotesipie  composite  lijrnres.  syinbolizins;  various  superhuman 
attributes,  which  puarded  the  dwellings,  palaces,  and  temples  of  the  llaiiy- 
lonians.     The  subject  ''f  the  cherubim  is  still  somewhat  obscure.  thoui;h 


IF 

1  M   ?]' 
y''. 

HI 

'   1 ' 

1  >'■  t 

248 


MODES  OF  REVELATION 


Book  X 


f 

\ 

.    '  V 

t 
I 

F'  t 


1 


Kebar  (i.  4  —  28;  viii.  1 — 4;  x.).  In  these  the  holiness 
and  majesty,  their  resistible  power  as  well  as  the  omnis- 
cience of  Jehovah,  are  expressed  in  images  drawn  from 
the  symboli(!iil  tigures  of  Hebrew  and  Chaldiuan  worahip. 
These  revelations  brought  to  his  mind  what  Jehovah  was 
to  his  distracted  people.  The  thought  of  these  attributes 
of  the  God  of  Israel  bore  him  up  in  view  of  the  destruction 
of  the  holy  city  and  the  temple.  For  Jehovah  is  greater 
than  his  favourite  dwelling-place  ;  He  may  leave  it  and 
it  falls  defenceless ;  but  He  may  appear  in  his  glory  on 
the  alien  soil  of  Babylonia.*  The  same  thought  sustained 
him  in  the  presence  of  the  overwhelming  material  greatness 
of  Babylonia,  as  contrasted  with  the  meanness  and  feeble- 
ness of  the  remnants  of  Judah.  For  they  with  Him  on 
their  side  were  yet  to  be  stronger  than  all  their  oppressors. 

§  1177.  ( )f  actual  occurrences  in  the  history  of  Jerusalem 
before  its  final  siege  by  Nebuchadrezzar,  we  learn  notiiing 
from  Ezekid  His  prophecy  is  made  up  of  a  series  of  judg- 
ments, and  these  are  of  an  abstract  character,  evoked  by 
general  conditions  rather  than  by  special  incidents.  His 
predictions  also  do  not  relate  to  any  intervening  events  of 
national  importance,  but  to  the  all-absorbing  catastrophe 
alone. 

§  1178.  Very  characteristic  of  Ezekiel  are  the  means 
by  which  he  represents  the  details  of  Jerusalem's  distress 
and  of  the  final  calamity.     The  main  [)rocess()f  destruction 


istl 


le  siege. 


Thishelieholds  four  years  in  advance  by  the 


many  have  writU-ii  upon  it.  For  p-od  short  discussions  one  may  consult 
8nien<l,  Alltcxt.  Jii-li'iioHHycschirhtc.  p.  21  f.,  4(17  f.,  Nowucii,  HA.  ii.  .')S  f., 
anil  tlie  articlt-  ••(^inruhini.  '  in  Dli.,  l>y  I'mfcssor  .F.  E.  Hyle.  'I'he  bibli- 
cal usai;t  Is  well  suinuiarizcd  in  artiL-ie  anj  in  IJrowii's  (fi'si'iiius. 

'  It  has  be«»n  pointed  out  as  by  Cornill,  Der  inmeUtixche  Prophet is- 
mitK.  117  f.)  bow  rloscly  I'.zfkiel  resembles  Isaiah  in  bis  vi«'w  of  the  ex- 
aitatii.n  of  Jehovah  above  lirs  creatures.  Hut  notice  the  ailvance  made 
by  Kzekiel.  The  "wraphiin  '  of  Isaiah  reprem-ut  Jehovah  only  in  his 
ti'mpie.  Hut  Ezekiel's  elierubini  apju-ar  even  in  an  uncleaii  and  hostile 
land.  Fnsli  revelations  were  a.-i,sociate(l  with  revolutionary  events  in  the 
history  ot  Israel,  which  implied  an  aspect  of  .lehovah's  naiurt  and  pruvi- 
denco  hitherto  unknown  or  unfelt  (§  13ao  ff.). 


Cii.  VIII,  §  1178 


PICTORIAL   IMAGES 


240 


inward  eye.  The  vision  is  so  clear  that  ho  can  objectivizo 
it  in  a  picture.  What  he  sees  is  engraved  upon  a  tile,  such 
as  were  found  by  the  tliousand  in  Babylonia  bearing 
inscriptions  or  pictorial  representations.^  Thereon  the 
main  events  and  actions  of  the  aggressive  work  of  a  for- 
mal siege  are  depicted  in  the  order  of  their  occurrence'^ 
(Ez.  iv.  1-3;  cf  xxvi.  8  f.). 

1  The  setting  and  the  details  of  this  reijresontation  are  Rabylonian.  The 
very  idea  of  a  picture  in  foreign  to  Israeliti.sli  usaf;e,  wliit'li  forbade  tlie 
nialcing  of  any  image  or  likenuHS  at*  promoting  idolatry.  Ci-rtain  rrsuits 
of  the  singular  ab.senco  of  this  form  of  art  culture  may  be  rcmarkt-d. 
Inaanuich  as  even  mechanical  drawing  was  discouraged  tlu  itby,  lon- 
Btruciive  skill  in  all  directions,  notably  in  architecture,  was  lacking  all 
through  the  history  of  Israel.  Again,  the  faculty  of  nice  ob.servafiDU, 
which  is  80  greatly  promoted  by  the  artistic  habit,  was  very  slightly 
developed.  For  example,  there  is  no  description  of  or  even  allusion  to 
scenes  or  occurrences  in  the  realm  of  njvture  in  the  Hible,  except  tlie  most 
familiar  and  impo.sing  objects  and  phenomena.  Thirdly,  the  form  and 
style  of  the  literature  are  a  constant  testimony  to  the  ab.sence  of  this  half- 
iesthetic,  half-scientilic  education.  On  the  other  haml,  Kzekiel,  who  lived 
so  long  in  Habylonia,  is  the  most  methodical  of  writers  (§  1175)  in  the 
conception,  plan,  and  style  of  his  comjiositions.  He,  moreover,  shows 
knowledge  of  designing  and  architecture  (ch.  xl.  ff.  ;  cf.  Davidson,  llonk 
of  Ezckiel,  p.  xxvii).  The  detailed  working  out  of  the  siege  is  also  Haby- 
lonish. 

2  Xo  objection  can  well  be  taken  to  the  above  explanation  of  the  com- 
mand given  to  the  prophet  to  "  take  a  tile  and  engrave  upon  it  a  city."' 
The  other  alternative  is  to  understand  the  terms  literally.  In  the  pn-sent 
instance  the  carrying  out  of  the  command  by  actual  mechanical  i)roce8s, 
while  somewhat  ecceniric,  woidd  be  neither  impossible  imr  unexampled. 
In  other  cases  {e.y.  iv.  4-<'»)  the  ab.surdity  of  the  literal  interpretation 
becomes  manifest.  Here  again  we  have  a  suggestiim  of  the  caution  that 
is  necessary  when  canons  of  Ilebrt'W  liti-rary  form  and  style  are  discussed. 
We  should  remember  that  just  here  the  prophet  forebore  to  teat.'h  llie 
people  in  any  way  (iii.  20),  .so  thai  the  oidy  conceivable  motive  of  a  sjjcc- 
tacnlar  performance  could  not  have  been  present.  The  laiblic  silence 
imposed  upon  him  must  iiavo  lasted  until  the  end  of  this  series  of  visions 
and  symbolical  actions,  that  is,  to  the  close  of  the  siege  of  Jerusalem. 
()ther'.vi.se  iii.  2(1  is  meaningless.  After  this  point  wivs  reached,  he  had 
free  communication  with  the  people,  and  then  doubtless  the  command  to 
explain  the  signs  wo';  fulfilled  (cf.  xxiv,  27).  In  the  meantime,  '-shut 
up  in  his  hoiiiic ''  (iii.  24),  he  was  visited  by  those  who  cho.se  to  come 
to  him  (cf.  §  1170  note),  and  by  them  the  visions  and  symbols  were 
observed  (viii.  1,  etc.). 


i 


'I'M 


il 


m 


i' 


.i.J 


.  1 

l  '<  ->  1 

m 

mL 

2.'>0 


SYMBOLICAL   ACTIONS 


no4>K  X 


§  1179.  Another  symbolical  action,  to  be  interpreted  on 
similar  principles,  represents  the  sufferings  and  the  fate 
of  Israel  and  .ludah.  The  pn)phet  must  lie  on  his  left 
side  one  hundred  and  ninety  Ulays  to  represent  the  number 
of  years  of  the  captivity  of  northern  Israel,  and  for  the 
years  of  tlie  captivity  of  the  kingdom  of  Judah  to  lie  on 
his  right  side  for  forty  days.  In  this  way  he  was  "to  bear 
the  iniquity  of  the  house  of  Israel "  (iv.  5)  and  of  "  the  house 
of  Judah  "  (iv.  <l).  "  '-"yi'ig  on  his  side,  held  down  as  with 
cords  (iv.  8)  and  unable  to  turn,  he  re[)resents  Israel 
pressed  and  held  in  the  grasp  of  the  punishment  of  its 
ini(iuity."^  Simultaneously  with  this  performance,  that  is, 
during  the  one  hundred  and  ninety  days,  he  is  to  live  on 
a  frugal  and  at  the  same  time  ceremoniall^'^  unclean  diet 
prepared  by  him  in  a  peculiarly  repulsive  manner  to  set 
forth  the  scarcity  of  food  during  the  siege,  the  sufferings 
of  the  beleaguered  people,  and  the  desperate  means  to 
which  they  would  resort  in  the  light  against  famine.' 
The  symbol  also  meant,  in  the  spirit  of  IIos.  ix.  8  f., 
that  captivity  would  in  a  sense  prolong  such  hoirors, 
since  all  food  partaken  of  in  a  foreign  land  was  unclean, 
because  it  could  not  be  offered  to  the  absent  Jehovah 
(iv.  9-17). 

§  1180.  Still  another  s3-mbolical  .action  was  enjoined. 
The  prophet  must  disHgu»e  himself  by  cutting  off  the  hair 
of  his  head  and  his  beard,  and  that  with  a  sword.  The 
hair  must  then  be  divided  into  three  ^^qual  parts,  one  of 

1  The  Hebrew  text  gives  three  huiulred  and  luiicty  days,  but  the  Sept., 
as  given  above,  is  iiiidnubtedly  correct.  In  tliis  number  the  la.st  forty 
jears  were  common  to  tlie  captivities  of  Israel  and  .ludaii.  The  reckon- 
ing is  to  be  made  from  722  ».<•.  (§  ;J(M)).  We  need  not  seek  for  e.xactnf.ss 
here.  Wliile  Kzekiel  gives  forty  years  for  tlie  exile  of  Judah.  .Jeremiah 
hail  already  announced  seventy,  and  tiiis  was  probably  known  to  Kzekitl. 
Neither  number  is.  nor  wa.s  intended  to  be,  accurate.  The  "  left  side  "  in 
Hebrew  is  a  synonym  for  the  north,  and  the  "  right  side  "  for  the  south. 

^  Davidson.  77ic  limtk  of  Ezekh'l,  p.  :}0. 

'  ',  onipare  the  horrible  sarcasm  and  hyperbole  of  the  Assyrian  legato 
addressed  to  the  defenders  of  Jerusalem  in  701  n.c.  (2  K.  xviii.  27). 


!! 


Cii.  V!II,  §  1182        EFFECT  OF  THE   VISIONS 


251 


which  was  to  be  burned,  another  to  be  struck  with  the 
sword,  and  the  third  to  be  scattered  to  the  winds  (Ez.  v. 
1-4).  This  procedure  sets  forth  the  fate  of  the  people  of 
Jerusalem  (vs.  12  ft'.),  some  of  whom  should  be  consumed 
by  pestilence  and  famine  during  the  siege,  others  fall  a 
prey  to  the  sword  of  the  con(jueror,  and  others  tlcc  far 
and  wide  to  peril  and  death.  Upon  this  there  follows  a 
discourse  couched  in  the  familiar  prophetic  language  of 
threatening  and  denunciation  but  marked  by  more  than 
usual  severity  and  bitterness  (chs.  vi.  and  vii.). 

§  1181.  The  foregoing  citations  lafford  sufficient  idea  of 
the  occupation  of  the  prophet  of  the  early  exile  during 
tin;  fii-st  year  of  his  official  ministry.  His  work  may  seem 
III  have  had  no  great  historical  importance,  inasmuch  as 
ho  now  held  aloof  from  public  life  and  did  not  seek 
directly  to  promote  delinite  action  either  in  Babylonia 
or  in  Jerusalem.  Yet  his  peculiar  methods  of  prophesying 
were  not  wholly  without  practical  effect.  The  leadei-s  of 
the  people  who  had  been  hitherto  hostile  or  indifferent 
now  showed  an  interest  which  was  more  than  curiosity. 

%■' 

In  the  words  of  the  promise  made  to  Jeremiah  (§  11-0), 
they  resorted  to  him  while  he  did  not  resort  to  them. 
Shut  up  in  his  house,  lie  was  visited  by  "  the  elders  of 
Judah "  in  the  sixth  year  of  his  captivity,  just  a  jeur 
after  the  first  of  his  previous  visions.  In  this  situation 
he  fell  into  a  trance,  in  the  course  of  which  he  felt  him- 
self borne  away  to  Jerusalem.  Here  he  beheld  various 
actions  performed  by  leading  citizens  (Kz.  viii.-xi.),  which 
are  the  most  instructive  revelations  made  t<»  us  of  the 
moral  and  spiritual  condition  of  the  peoj)le  since  the 
attempted  reformation  of  Josiah. 

§  1182.  This  is  what  the  pro[)het  saw  after  his  vision- 
ary journey  through  the  upper  air  to  the  sacred  haunls 
of  his  earlier  days  (viii.  3).  Fii*st  of  all  the  glory  of  (lod 
was  displayed  as  it  had  been  in  the  plain  of  the  Kei)ar 
(viii.  4).  Then  in  startling  contrast  was  seen  an  Ashera, 
8uch  as  that  which  King  Manasseh  had  put  in  the  temple 


>  ! 


i. 


'If 

! 


■I  .' 
I      '-■ 

HI 
1    • 

!  ilil 


f 

1 

!'.  . 

r^B  It 

(J 

i, '  ■ 

H 

h 

1: 


'■  n 


262 


ABOMINATIONS   IN  THE  TEMPLE 


BookX 


(2  K.  xxi.  7)  and  Josiah  liad  removed  and  burnt  (§  K54), 
it  having  apparently  been  restored  under  Zedekiah.  It 
iH  signiticantly  called  the  "jealousy-image,*'  as  challenging 
most  of  all  the  indignation  of  the  jealous  God  of  Israel. 
This  incitement  to  sensual  iniquity,  in  the  very  precincts 
of  .It'hoviih's  dwelling-place,  Htood  well  within  the  outer 
court  of  the  temple. 

§  1183.  Passing  tins  image  he  entei-s  the  gateway  that 
leads  from  the  outer  to  the  inner  court  and  the  various 
adjoining  side  chaml>ers  and  offices  of  the  temple  function- 
aries. In  some  of  these  cells,  to  which  access  was  only 
gained  secretly  (cf.  the  8yml)olical  action  of  vs.  7  and  8), 
many  of  the  eldei-s  of  the  people  were  burning  incense  to 
various  iMJstial  objects*  (viii.  6-12)  in  the  desperate  hope 
of  moving  all  the  supernatural  pt)wer8  in  behalf  of  the  de- 
clining monarchy.  Those  deities  which  were  specially 
propitiated  were  native  to  the  soil  of  Canaan,  since  the 
votaries  were  now  dreading  the  forfeiture  of  home  and 
country.  Significant  in  this  connection  is  the  watchword 
of  the  ol)scuro  and  clandestine  mysteries :  "  Jehovah  hath 
forsaken  the  land."  It  was  as  though  the  land,  devastated 
and  (U'poi)ulated,  and  held  in  fee  by  a  foreign  tyrant,  had 
been  abandoned  by  its  (iod,  and  given  over  to  the  demons 

J  Cf.  W.  H.  SiiiJtli,  I'rophrts,  p.  -jea  ;  KS.3,  pp.  21M>  ff.,  ;Jii7.  The  cult 
of  tlu'so  iiiiflraii  uniiiials  wsim  a  mirvival  and  revival  of  priiiiiiive  tdteiiiiHtic 
liabitH,  ami  not  an  imitation  of  Kgyptian  beaMt-worHlii|),  wliieii  had  to  du 
only  with  living'  animals,  and  wa8,  indeed,  never  naturalized  in  iHrael  or 
amonjj  any  .SiMiiitio  people.  The  represenUition  <>*  theHe  ohjectH  of  super- 
HtitiouH  rejjard,  as  "carved  on  the  wall  round  ahoul''  (viii.  1(»),  —  not 
'•pourlrayed "  (KV.)  or  "painted"  (Smend),  —  is  jjrobahly  another 
tnueii  of  Babylonian  inHuenco  (cf.  xxiii.  14).  These  luts-nlii-fs  were 
enlinly  foreign  to  Hebrew  usaK«  (§  1178),  and,  howevi'r  Hcrious  the 
innovations  of  the  tinie  may  have  been,  the  temple  chamlters  would 
Hearcely  be  decorated  with  such  elaborate  foreign  devices  to  8et  forth 
the  objecfa  of  a  rude  and  Himplc  cult.  Kzekiel  has  in  lar^e  measure 
tranHfi>rred  the  aosociations  of  Hahylonian  temples  and  ])alaees  to  tlie 
temple  of  .lerusalem.  The  Bacritlces  made  by  lebrews  at  a  aomewhat 
later  jwrlod  (Isa.  Ixvi.  .S,  17),  of  various  unclean  creatures,  were  also  in 
some  way  connected  with  demoniacal  beliefs.  Their  motive,  however,  is 
as  yet  obscure. 


Cn.  VIII.  8  1184         WEEPINO   FOR  TAMMUZ 


253 


that  held  their  sway  before  even  Haal  ami  Ashtoreth  had 
come  in  with  the  corn  and  the  vino  and  the  feasts  of  the 
blossoming  year ! 

§  1184.  The  projihet  next  sees  in  vision  the  part 
played  by  the  women  in  the  deterioration  of  faitli  and 
morals.  He  turns  northward  again  to  the  most  fre- 
quented entrance  of  the  temple  (cf.  §  1118),  "and  behold! 
there  were  sitting  the  women  WL'e[)ing  for  Tumnnix "  * 
(Kz.  viii.  13  f.).  As  in  the  previous  exhibition,  so  we  have 
here  a  specinu'U  of  a  religious  custom  whose  olwj'rvance 
shows  a  radical  departure  from  the  pure  worship  of 
Jehovah.  No  symbol  was  more  lieautiful  and  more  seduc- 
tive than  the  great  nature-myth  which  in  one  form  or 
another  enthralled  the  North-Semitic  world  from  the 
Tigris  to  the  Mediterranean.  It  was  the  everlasting 
mystery  and  process  of  the  decay  of  nature,  the  ebbing 
away  of  the  illumining,  vitalizing,  gladdening  eHlncnce  of 
the  spring  and  summer  sun.  The  usage  which  is 
here  commemorated,  though  it  has  its  [iaralK-1  in  the  IMuu- 
nician  custom  of  the  mourning  for  Adonis,  and  its  founda- 
tion in  immemorial  Canaanitic  tradition,  is  in  the  view  of 


>  The  myth  of  Taiiiinuz  hiiA  two  main  braiiclu'H.  In  hotli  hi>  tlpin>s  an 
a  Holar  deity.  In  the  primary  ami  fumiami'ntal  form,  ht*  m  tlic  prim-i- 
|>ic  of  fertility,  particularly  in  the  vejjctablo  world.  Hence  midrtiiinmer 
in  the  proper  seaHon  of  Tanimnz.  Indeed,  "Tammu/. "  is  the  name  of 
the  fourth  month  of  the  |{al>ylonian  or  Semitic  year.  Then  the  sun  \« 
In  hU  Htren^th,  the  i)Owei>i  of  nature  are  most  active,  and  it  is  then  that 
In  many  parts  of  the  woild,  if  not  indeed  everywhere,  the  chief  rileH  of 
sun-wornhip  were  celehrated.  Even  yet,  amoni;  the  IndiaiiH  of  the  North- 
west, the  Hun-tlance  perpetuate.s  the  universal  cult.  There,  too,  a  (while) 
doK  in  Hacritlced  (cf.  US.,''  p.  2tf2  note).  Tamniuz  Ih  the  analomie  of 
Adonis,  whoso  woinhip,  naturalizeil  ia  (Sreece,  was  oriuinally  I'lKefiician, 
and  therefore  ranaanitio.  Hut  the  cult  of  Ailoids  corresponds  rather  to 
the  Hccoiul  or  Hpecial  aspect  of  Tammu/.  worship,  which  is  «>xeinplitied  in 
this  pa.ssa^e  of  Ezekiel  and  described  further  below.  The  name  Tarnmui! 
Is  found  only  twice  in  the  Bible,  an*l  nowhere  elsi;  except  as  derived  from 
the  Babylonian.  It  Is  explained  in  cuneiform  texts  as  ei|uivalent  to 
''child  of  life,"  on  the  assumption  that  the  original  form  is  dumuz, 
Dnmuz,  however,  may  bu  an  artificial  construction  of  priestly  antl- 
quarianlsiu. 


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254 


THE   MISSION  OF   ISHTAR 


Book  X 


our   prophet  specifically  Babylonian,  else   he  would  not 
have  used  the  exclusively  Babylonian  name.  * 

§  1185.  Fortunately  the  treasures  of  the  cuneiform 
literature  afford  an  explanation  worth  giving  of  this  much- 
debated  passage.  Notice  in  the  first  place  that  the  vision 
is  seen  in  the  sixth  month  of  the  year  (viii.  1).  Turning 
to  the  native  cuneiform  table  of  months,  we  find  that  the 
sixth  month  Ulul  (the  "  Elul "  of  Neh.  vi.  15)  is  described 
as  "  the  month  of  the  mission  of  Ishtar."  ^  What  is  the 
meaning  of  this  portentous  phrase  ?  The  main  part  of  the 
answer  is  furnished  by  the  famous  "  Descent  of  Ishtar,"  ^  as 
it  is  usually  called,  a  poem  describing  the  journey  of  Ish- 
tar to  the  underworld,  the  realm  of  Allatu,  in  search  of  her 
consort  Tammuz.  The  poem  in  its  present  form  embodies 
more  than  one  variety  of  Ishtar-myth.  An  astronomical 
motive,  based  on  the  rising  and  setting  of  the  planet  Venus, 
is  there  combined  with  an  eschatological  motive  having 
the  practical  purpose  of  setting  forth  to  anxious  inquirers 


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1  The  reader  should  bear  in  mind  that  Tammuz  is  not  the  same  pre- 
cisely as  Adonis.  The  analogy  of  the  respective  rites  does  not  constitute 
identity  of  the  objects  worshipped  or  celebrated.  A  community  of  origin 
between  the  Canaanitic  mourning  for  Adonis  and  the  Babylonian  weeping 
for  Tammuz  is  not  yet  proved,  though  it  may  be  considered  probable. 
We  have  to  think  similarly  of  the  analogy  of  Venus  and  Ishtar. 

2  See  V  R.  29  nr.  1,  line  6  ;  cf.  Haupt,  Keilschrifttexte,  p.  64,  and 
Delitzsch,  Assyrische  Lesestiicke,  p.  92  f.  In  a  list  of  months,  with  their 
presiding  divinities  (IV  R.  .S3),  Ulul  is  named  as  sacred  to  Ishtar.  In  the 
epic  of  Gilgamesh  (formerly  held  to  be  "Nimrod"),  the  sixth  tablet  or 
book  among  the  twelve  (following  the  signs  of  the  zodiac)  describes  the 
love  of  Ishtar  for  the  hero  and  its  results.  The  name  "  Virgo  "  for  the 
sixth  zodiacal  constellation  commemorates  these  associations. 

»  Published  in  TSBA.  II,  179  ff.,  and  IV  R.  31  ;  extracts  in  Assyr. 
Lesestiicke,  and  Lyon,  Assyrian  Manual.  The  first  translations  with 
comments  were  made  by  Talbot,  in  TSBA.,  as  above,  and  in  RP.  I,  141 
ff.  ;  by  G.  Smith,  Chaldcean  Genesis ;  by  Schrader,  Die  Hollenfahrt  der 
Istnr,  these  three  having  done  most  to  break  and  clear  the  way.  Recent 
essays  are  those  of  Sayce,  Hihhert  Lectures,  1887 ;  of  A.  Jeremias,  Die 
bahylonisch-assyrischen  Vorstellungen  vom  Leben  vnch  dem  Tode  (1887); 
and  Jastrow,  RBA.  (1898).  Talbot,  Schrader,  and  Jeremias  have  also 
given  transcriptions  of  the  text. 


,  t 


Ch.  VIII,  §  1187 


TAMMUZ   AND  ISHTAR 


255 


or  mourners  the  condition  of  the  departed  in  the  under- 
world.^ The  fundamental  idea  is,  however,  evident  in  the 
main  features  of  the  story,  and  to  this  we  shall  have  to 
confine  ourselves  here. 

§  1186.  Tanimuz,  the  impersonation  of  the  fructifying, 
gladdening  sun,  is  at  the  height  of  his  glory  in  the  heavens, 
shining  "  with  all-triumphant  splendour,"  ^  in  the  month 
of  July,  and  at  the  same  time  he  has  fully  ripened  the 
precious  fruits  of  the  earth.  In  September,  when  "  the  sun 
crosses  the  line,"  when  the  lengthening  night  begins  to 
overcome  the  day,  his  supremacy  is  at  an  end  ;  he  has  suc- 
cumbed to  the  powers  of  darkness.  This  process  of  decline 
and  decay,  the  harbinger  of  winter,  was  figured  by  the 
naive  fancy  of  primitive  men  as  the  banishment  of  Tam- 
muz  to  the  realm  of  the  dead.  But  there  is  another 
factor  in  the  fully  developed  myth.  It  was  inevitable,  in 
the  very  nature  of  things,  that  as  the  counterpart  of  Tam- 
muz,  regarded  as  the  male  principle  of  productiveness,  a 
goddess  should  be  thought  of  as  expressing  the  female 
principle.  And  so  it  came  to  be  popularly  felt  that  the 
love  and  union  of  Tammuz  and  Ishtar  were  the  source  of 
all  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  the  earth,  of  the  perpetuation 
of  the  race  of  plants,  animals,  and  men,  of  life  itself,  with 
its  manifold  activities  and  enjoyments.  Hence,  when 
Tammuz  was  exiled  to  the  under-world,  it  was  fancied 
that  Ishtar  descended  thither  to  seek  him  and  bring  him 
back  before  his  doom  of  banishment  should  become  irrevo- 
cable. Thus  with  each  returning  year  came  the  month 
of  "  Tammuz  "  and  the  month  of  the  "mission  of  Ishtar." 

§  1187.     But  many  of  these  old  nature-myths  were  not 
merely  symbols  of  the  wonder-inspiring  phenomena  of  the 


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^See  Jastrow,  RBA.  p.  605,  671  ;  Jensen,  Kusmolorjie,  p.  227  ft, 
*  So  Shakespeare,  Sonnet  xxxiii.  In  these  exquisite  lines  the  supreme 
poet  suggests  to  us  how  in  such  natural  phenomena  the  wliole  ancient 
world  could  see  an  allegory  of  the  gladness  and  sorrow,  the  liopes  and 
disappointments,  of  humanity.  A  reading  of  the  sonnet  is  a  good  prepa- 
ration for  the  study  of  the  nature-myth. 


R'-i 


256 


A  GREAT  NATURE-MYTH 


Book  X 


W 


■'  I 


outer  world  —  they  became  also  parables  of  some  of  the 
most  profound  and  mysterious  processes  and  passions  of 
human  life.  The  imposing  fact  of  life  itself,  with  its  vary- 
ing sum  of  joys  and  sorrows,  and  the  inevitable  coming  of 
death,  with  its  silence,  inaction,  and  gloom,  exercised  a 
potent  influence  on  the  imagination  as  well  as  on  the  sensi- 
bilities of  early  humanity.  Behind  it  all  lay  the  mystery 
of  production  and  reproduction  linked  with  that  sexual 
passion  which  runs  in  all  sensuous  being.  Moreover, 
primitive  peoples  were  much  more  closely  united  by 
unconscious  sympathy  to  lower  forms  of  life  and  to  the 
very  earth  itself,  than  the  reflective  and  tutored  men  and 
women  of  our  modern  civilization.  They  did  not  philoso- 
phize or  theorize.  In  types  and  symbols,  made  moving 
and  memorable  by  poetic  fancy,  they  "bodied  forth  the 
forms  of  things  unknown."  Yet  such  poems  and  stories, 
in  which  we  philosophizing  moderns  have  found  the  key 
that  unlocks  the  antique  mind  and  heart,  were  but  the 
outward  sign  and  expression  of  what  was  at  once  the  inspi- 
ration and  the  habit  of  the  deepest  spiritual  life  which 
these  poor  children  of  the  earth  could  know.  They 
belonged  to  the  potent  realm  of  religion  guarded  by  grati- 
tude and  fear.  In  the  fond  but  real  fictions  of  Tammuz, 
Ishtar,  and  their  supernal  and  infernal  colleagues,  they 
generalized  the  countless  influences  and  motives  that  were 
felt  or  suspected  in  the  springing  of  the  grass,  the  bloom- 
ing of  the  flowers,  the  ripening  of  summer  fruits,  the  pair- 
ing of  birds  and  beasts  and  men,  and  the  coming  into  the 
world  of  a  new  generation. 

§  1188.  Thus  appeared  the  two  chief  forms  of  the 
myth  of  Tammuz,  the  one  being  to  the  other  as  the  winter 
is  to  the  summer  or  as  the  autumn  is  to  the  spring.  By 
them  the  miracle  of  the  changing  seasons  was  brought 
within  the  magic  circle  of  the  joys  and  sorrows  and  hopes 
and  fears  of  human  life,  and  transformed  into  a  perpetual 
parable.  It  is  with  the  second  form  of  the  myth  that  we 
are  here  particularly  concerned.     The  "  weeping  for  Tam- 


•    ! 


I  i 


the 


Ch.  VIII,  §  1189     THE  EVIL  OF  THE  SYMBOL 


257 


muz  "  was,  in  the  widest  sense,  the  universal  expression 
of  sadness  not  merely  for  the  departure  of  the  beauty  and 
richness  of  summer,  but  for  all  which  this  loss  symbolized, 
the  manifold  evils  which  the  course  of  nature  brings  to 
mankind.  Among  those  peoples  with  whom  thought  and 
language,  feeling  and  expression,  were  so  closely  allied 
as  to  be  identical  in  common  speech,  among  whom  wailing 
and  beating  the  breast  were  synonymous  with  mourning, 
the  weeping  for  the  dying  lord  of  the  day  was  simply  the 
vicarious  utterance  of  a  widespread  regret,  a  little  noisy 
drama  of  cries  and  tears  to  image  forth  a  world-wide 
tragedy,  silent  and  p'^-petual  as  the  process  of  the  suns. 
What  was  most  important  of  all,  it  became  a  religious  rite 
and  ceremony,  simple,  natural,  and  fascinating. 

§  1189.  But  here  we  are  pointed  to  "the  women  weep- 
ing for  Tammuz,"  and  that  within  the  precincts  of  the 
temple.  An  explanation  of  this  obnoxious  rite  is  furnished 
by  the  mission  of  Ishtar,  or  rather  by  the  whole  series  of 
relations  between  the  god  and  the  goddess,  of  Avhich  Ish- 
tar seeking  her  lost  consort  is  the  most  significant  episode. 
The  suggestive  feature  of  these  associations  is  the  desire 
for  Tammuz.  Here  we  strike  upon  the  essential  evil,  the 
danger-point  in  the  old  nature  religions.  When  the 
forces  or  phenomena  of  the  outer  world  are  viewed  merely 
as  iicatural  emblems  of  the  events  and  vicissitudes  of 
human  life,  their  contemplation  has  nothing  injurious 
in  it;  it  is  as  innocent  as  are  the  reflections  upon  it  of  a 
modern  philosopher.^  But  when  the  emblem  is  made  a 
symbol,  and  the  resemblance  becomes  a  rei)resentation, 
and  the  powers  of  nature  are  personified  into  the  likeness 
of  the  gods,  a  new  and  mighty  motive,  tlie  sanction  of 
religion,  is  added  to  the  human  impulses  which  the  super- 
nal beings  symbolize.      Whatever  passion  or  desire  of 

1  It  is  almost  needless  to  observe  here  that  such  a  stage  of  the  contem- 
plation of  nature  never  really  existed  among  primitive  men,  with  whom 
feeling  took  the  place  of  reflection,  and  nature  worship  the  place  of 
objective  observation. 


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258 


RELIGION  AND  SENSUALITY 


BookX 


Li 


""ill! 


men  is  either  directly  set  forth  or  necessarily  involved  in 
this  species  of  religious  symbolism  is  thereby  consecrated 
and  legitimated,  idealized,  and  intensified.  In  the  pres- 
ent instance  it  is  human  love  or  lust  that  receives  its 
apotheosis  in  the  worship  of  Ishtar  and  Tammuz,  and 
the  inseparable  common  history  of  ancient  religion  and 
ancient  morality  testifies  to  the  influence  of  such  a 
deification.  1 

§  1190.  Herein  lay  the  danger  and  the  significance  of 
"  the  women  weeping  for  Tammuz  "  in  the  view  of  the 
prophets  of  Jehovah.  This  rite,  as  actually  performed  in 
Jerusalem  in  the  sixth  month  of  591  u.c,  may  not  have 
been  directly  associated  with  acts  of  sexual  vice  perpe- 
trated under  the  license  of  religion.  But  at  any  rate,  the 
moral  evil  was  inevitably  promoted  by  the  religious  cere- 
mony. Indeed,  at  this  stage  in  the  history  of  Israel  the 
introduction  of  the  custom  was  tantamount  to  an  author- 
ization of  those  shameful  practices  which  marked  antique 
Semitic  religion  wherever  a  temple  was  reared  and  dedi- 
cated. Against  them,  as  a  concomitant  of  Baal-worship 
and  a  chief  incentive  to  its  cultivation,  the  true  priests 
and  prophets  of  Jehovah  had  inveighed  and  contended  for 
centuries.  The  legislation  of  Deuteronomy  (xxiii.  18) 
sought  to  suppress  it  entirely.  Instances  of  its  preva- 
lence are  recorded  both  of  the  northern  (Am.  ii.  7;  Hos. 
iv.  13  ff.)  and  of  the  southern  kingdom  (1  K.  xv.  12; 
xxii.  46;  cf.  xiv.  24).  The  very  names  (tnp^  and  ntnji') 
of  the  votaries  of  this  most  pernicious  of  all  social  cus- 
toms indicate  this  function  as  ministers  of  religion  ;'^  they 
were  a  common  designation  for  profligate  men  and  women 
(Gen.  xxxviii.  21  al.').  Repulsive  as  are  some  of  the 
features  of  Tammuz  worship,  and  ministering  as  it  did  to 
debasing  and  deteriorating  passions,  its  history,  taken  as 

1  For  the  unethical  character  of  the  observance  generally,  see  the  re- 
marks of  W.  R.  Smith,  RS.2,  p.  413  ff. 

2  Cf.  Assyrian  kadistu ;  and  see  Zimmern,  Babylonische  Busspsalmen, 
p.  40 ;  Jastrow,  RBA.  p.  475  f.  ;  Jeremias,  Izdubar,  p.  59  f. 


the 
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C'li.  VIII,  §  1191        ADORATION  OF  THE  SUN 


259 


a  whole,  is  the  most  instructive  of  all  subjects  that  engage 
the  attention  of  the  student  of  comparative  religion.  There 
is  nothing  which  so  plainly  demonstrates  the  need  of  man- 
kind for  a  divine  purifying  energy  to  withstand  the  most 
insidious  and  virulent  of  spiritual  tempters.  This  was  the 
monster  that  the  religion  of  Jehovah  slew  in  seemingly 
unequal  fight.  It  was  the  veritable  serpent  of  Eden,^ 
and  no  miracle  of  the  Old  or  New  Testament  was  so  great 
as  the  crushing  of  its  head. 

§  1191.  After  this  disclosure  of  the  worship  of  a  solar 
deity  or  special  manifestation  of  the  power  of  the  god  of 
day,  the  direct  adoration  of  the  sun  himself  by  the  elders 
of  the  priests  (cf.  ix.  6)  is  witnessed  in  vision  by  the 
prophet.  In  the  Holy  Place,  in  front  of  the  altar,  a  score 
of  men  were  seen,  with  faces  averted  from  the  glory  of 
Jehovah  in  the  Shechinah,  doing  homage  to  the  sun-god 
(viii.  15  f.).2  Like  the  other  forms  of  idolatry,  this  was 
promoted  by  Babylonian  influence.  Already,  at  or  near 
the  same  place  in  the  temple,  a  representation  of  the  horses 
and  chariots  of  the  sun  in  his  journey  through  the  heavens 
had  been  imported  in  deference  to  Assyria,  presumably 
by  Ahaz  or  Manasseh.     It  had  been  destroyed  by  Josiah 


»  Cf.  Jastrow,  RBA.  p.  477. 

2  It  is  singular  that  most  expositors  (Davidson  being  an  exception) 
have  seen  in  viii.  17  a  new  and  extreme  form  of  false  worship,  mistrans- 
lated in  the  words  of  EV.,  "and  lo  !  they  put  tlie  brancli  to  tlieir  nose." 
But  the  expression,  which  is  quite  obscure,  must,  wliatever  its  exact 
meaning,  be  an  amplification  of  tlie  statement  just  i)receding,  "  they  have 
filled  the  land  with  wrong-doing."  The  other  forms  of  idolatry  are  elabo- 
rately introduced  with  an  indication  of  the  places  and  modes  of  observ- 
ance (vs.  2-16)  ;  and  this  would  be  so  distinguished  also  if  it  were  some- 
thing so  strange  and  specific.  Some  perceive  a  reference  to  "  the  Persian 
habit  of  holding  before  the  moutli  a  bundle  of  twigs  while  invoking  the 
god  of  liglit"  (Orelli,  Das  Buch  Ezpchiel  ausgelcyt,  1888.  p.  .^8).  But 
how  should  the  Hebrews,  or,  for  that  matter,  the  Babylonians,  at  this 
stage  of  their  history,  have  been  led  to  caricature,  or  adopt  in  any  fashion, 
a  religious  custom  of  a  people  then  so  obscure  and  remote  ?  A  grotescjue 
interpretation  may  be  seen  in  the  recent  commentary  of  Bertholet,  Das 
Buck  Hesekiel  erkldrt  (1897),  p.  60. 


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260 


FOREDOOMED  TO   DEATH 


Book  X 


(§  856).  But  when  Babylon  became  supreme  the  sun- 
god  was  again  made  an  object  of  reverence.  This  was 
the  climax  of  "abominations,"  since  it  was  a  more  fla- 
grant defiance  of  Jehovah  than  any  other  mode  of  false 
worship  practised  in  Jerusalem. 

§  1192.  The  scene  is  now  changed:  after  this  vision 
of  sin  comes  a  vision  of  the  oft-predicted  punishment. 
Characteristically,  the  image  takes  its  form  from  in- 
cidents of  Assyrian  and  Babylonian  warfare,  such  as 
have  been  brought  in  abundance  before  our  own  eyes  in 
the  cuneiform  records.  In  the  annals  of  tlie  great  con- 
querors it  is  often  related  ^  that  the  leaders  in  revolt  and 
those  of  the  people  generally  who  had  "  committed  sin  " 
were  put  to  a  cruel  death,  while  those  who  were  guiltless 
of  rebellion  were  spared.  Sometimes  the  number  of  the 
slain  or  the  deported  is  given  with  absolute  exactness. ^ 
Such  discrimination  must  have  been  the  result  of  careful 
inquiry,  after  which  the  doom  was  relentlessly  fulfilled.  A 
similar  process  of  selection,  condemnation,  and  execution 
is  seen  by  Ezekiel  as  enacted  in  Jerusalem  (ch.  ix.). 
Seven  messengers  from  the  throne  of  Jehovah  are  charged 
with  "the  impending  punishment  of  the  city."^  To  one 
of  these  legates,  arrayed  in  white,  the  symbol  of  the 
divine  righteousness  (cf.  Dan.  x.  6;  xii.  6;  Rev.  iii.  4  f. ; 
XV.  6),  and  bearing  writing  materials,  was  committed 
the  task  of  marking  with  a  cross  the  foreheads  of  those 
who  "were  moaning  and  sighing  for  all  the  abomina- 
tions "  that  were  done  in  Jerusalem.  The  remaining 
six,  with  "weapons  of  destruction"  in  their  hands, 
were  charged  to  follow  him  and  slay  without  mercy  all 
who  had  not  the  badge  of  immunity  (cf.  Rev.  vii.  3,  ctr. 
xiv.  9). 

1  E.g.  by  Sinacherib,  in  his  report  of  the  capture  of  Ekron  (I  R.  41, 
Iff.);  see  §675. 

2  As  was  actually  done  in  fulfilment  of  this  prediction  by  Nebuchad- 
rezzar's general  (2  K.  xxv.  18  ff.). 

*  See  Cornill,  Der  Prophet  Ezechiel,  p.  226  f . ,  note  on  ch.  ix.  1. 


T* 


Ch.  VIII,  §  1106       VISIONS  OF   DESTRUCTION 


261 


§  1193.  To  set  forth  the  utter  destruction  of  the  city 
itself  a  new  image  is  resorted  to,  whose  reality  was  only 
too  well  known  in  the  Assyrian  and  Babylonian  times 
throughout  western  Asia.  Still  in  the  guise  of  a  vision 
the  city  is  revealed  as  about  to  be  enveloped  in  the  flames 
of  avenging  fire.  A  corresponding  revelation  is  made  of 
the  shining  brightness  of  the  cherubim,  who  are  again 
displayed  in  the  Holy  of  Holies.  The  terrible  conception 
that  the  firing  of  Jerusalem  by  the  Chaldajan  conquerors 
after  its  capture  was  actually  of  divine  ordination  is 
vividly  symbolized:  A  cherub  takes  of  the  coals  of  fire 
that  l)urn  within  the  wheels  of  the  celestial  figures  and 
delivers  them  to  the  white-clad  angel  of  destruction  to  be 
scattered  over  the  city  (ch.  x.). 

§  1194.  Transported  again  to  the  east  side  of  the 
temple,  the  prophet  sees  before  the  gate  a  number  of  the 
princes  (cf.  §  1183),  "de^-'sing  iniquity  and  wicked 
counsel,"  which  the  contest  shows  to  refer  to  the  suicidal 
policy  of  rebellion  against  Babylon  (xi.  1-3).  The  atti- 
tude of  the  revolutionists  is  instructive.  They  said,  "  It 
is  not  just  noAv  that  we  must  build  houses:^  this  city  is 
the  cauldron  and  we  are  the  flesh  " ;  or,  in  modern  lan- 
guage, "This  is  no  time  for  the  occupations  of  peace. 
We  are  stewing  here  in  our  own  juice ;  let  us  strike  for 
freedom."  At  this,  the  prophet  is  commanded  m  declare 
that  they  shall  not  in  any  case  remain  in  the  city,  but 
shall  be  delivered  up  to  strangers  for  captivity  and  violent 
death.  While  he  is  prophesying,  one  of  the  ringleaders 
suddenly  falls  dead  (xi.  4-13). 

§  1195.  Before  the  vision  fades,  however,  there  comes 
an  enlargement  of  the  prophet's  outlook.  Not  all  Israel 
was  in  Jerusalem.  The  exiles,  present  and  to  come, 
banished  from  the  city  and  the  temple,  Jehovah  himself 

1  The  full  expression  is  given  in  Ez.  xxviii.  26  ;  Isa.  Ixv.  21  ;  Jer.  xxix. 
5,  28.  The  phrase  is  equivalent  to  settling  down  quietly.  The  antitliesis 
is  the  saying,  "to  your  tents,  O  Israel  I"  referring  to  the  unsettlement 
and  strife  characteristic  of  the  nomadic  life  (§  465). 


I  m 

i  -'-SHil 

■I 

!        1      ''7 

i    I    ■: 


44 


t^i 


III 


^f.i 


li 


t'i       !' 


m[ 


1 

1 
1 

i;  :' 

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i' 

) 

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1 

i 
1 

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M 


262 


THE   FLIGHT   SYMBOLIZED 


Book  X 


scarcely  revealing  his  presence  to  them,^  were  yet  to  be 
restored  to  their  own  and  Jehovah's  land  and  city. 
"And  they  shall  come  thither,  and  they  shall  take  away 
all  its  horrors  and  all  its  abominations.  And  I  will  give 
them  another  2  heart,  and  a  new  spirit  I  will  put  within 
tliem,^  and  will  remove  the  heart  of  stone  from  them  and 
give  them  a  heart  of  flesh,  to  the  end  that  they  may  walk 
in  my  statutes  and  keep  my  judgments  and  do  them,  and 
may  be  to  me  a  people  and  I  to  them  may  be  a  God.  ..." 
(xi.  14-21). 

§  119G.  After  the  promise  and  the  curse  the  glory  of 
Jehovah  removed  from  before  the  temple  and  rested  upon 
the  Mount  of  Olives  (vs.  22,  23),  no  longer  to  protect 
and  bless  his  city,  but  to  stand  aloof  while  it  fulfilled 
its  doom.  Released  from  his  trance  the  prophet  finds 
himself  once  more  among  his  companions  in  exile,  to 
whom  he  relates  all  that  it  had  been  given  him  to  see 
(vs.  24,  25). 

§  1197.  Soon  thereafter,  at  a  date  not  indicated,  Eze- 
kiel,  in  an  ecstatic  mood,  is  impelled  to  another  symbolic 
action,  so  as  to  make  still  more  impressive  the  impending 
fall  of  Jerusalem  and  the  end  of  the  kingdom.  He  is  to 
take  his  worldly  possessions  out  of  his  house  in  the  day- 
time, making  ready  for  a  flight  under  the  cover  of  darkness. 
Then,  when  the  night  has  come,  he  is  to  break  through  the 
wall  of  the  city  and  seek  to  escape  with  his  burden  upon 
his  shoulder  (Ez.  xii.  1-7).  This  proceeding  is  explained 
to  mean  that  the  "prince"  Zedekiah  is  to  attempt  to  save 
himself  by  flight  at  the  taking  of  his  city,  but  should  be 
caught  outside  the  wall  in  a  net  which  Jehovah  himself 
was  to  spread  over  him  (cf.  xvii.  20;  xxxii.  3;  Hos.  vii. 
12).  Thence  he  was  to  be  brought  as  a  captive  to  Babylon. 
That  city  he  was  not  to  see  with  his  eyes  (cf.  2  K. 
XXV.  7),  though  he  was  to  live  there  till  his  death.     Of 


mn- 


1  Notice  xi.  16,  "  I  have  been  a  sanctuary  to  them  but  little." 
^  So  the  Sept.  *  So  the  ancient  Versions. 


the 


Oil.  VIII,  §  llOa       I'UOI'HICTS   AND   DIVINERS 


203 


his  subjects  but  a  few  should  survive  the  destroying  sword 
(xii.  8-lG).i 

§  1108.  A  series  of  instructive  utterances  are  now 
recorded,  wliich  show  the  inherent  necessity  and  the 
moral  justification  of  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  and  the  ruin 
of  the  state  (Ez.  xiii.-xix.).  Prefaced  to  these  are  two 
striking  declarations  aimed  at  the  popular  delusion  that 
effective  prophecy  was  at  an  end  in  Israel  and  tlie  kindred 
belief  that  any  prediction  that  came  from  Jehovah  must 
api)ly,  not  to  the  near,  but  to  the  distant  future  (xii. 
21-28).  The  current  sayings  thus  denounced  ran  thus: 
"The  days  keep  stretching  out  and  visions  come  to 
naught"  (v.  22),  and,  "The  vision  that  he  is  seeing  is 
for  many  days  hence,  and  for  distant  times  he  is  prophesy- 
ing." Against  those  who  thus  bring  true  prophecy  into 
disrepute  the  genuine  prophet  of  Jehovah  brings  a  formal 
indictment  (ch.  xiii.).  They  accelerate  the  destruction 
of  the  liouse  of  Israel  because  they  "  prophesy  out  of  their 
own  minds,"  so  that  they  never  really  "see"  in  the  true 
sense  of  the  word  (xiii.  2-7).  With  want  of  practical  as 
well  as  spiritual  insight  they  announce  peace  when  turmoil 
and  calamity  are  inevitable  (xiii.  8-10),  like  men  who 
would  stay  up  a  decaying  wall  with  a  mere  coat  of  plaster. 
With  the  first  storm  of  the  wrath  of  Jehovah  it  shall 
tumble  to  the  ground  (vs.  11-10). 

§  1199.  A  fitting  companion  r81e  to  that  of  the  prophets 
was  played  by  their  female  colleagues,  the  employment  of 
whom,  as  a  class  of  professionals,  was  as  much  an  evidence 
of  social  disorganization  as  of  religious  degeneracy.  It 
is  noteworthy  how  in  times  of  personal  or  national  per- 
plexity, when  ordinary  means  of  redress  are  exhausted, 
resort  is  had  to  occult  superstitions  that  are  usually 
ignored  or  derided.  As  intelligent  people  of  the  present 
day  resort  in  sore  sickness  to  a  "Christijin  Scientist," 
or  as  Saul,  sore  pressed  by  the  Philistines,  sought  counsel 

1  Another  symbolical  action  (xii.  17-20),  if  it  may  be  so  called,  is 
simply  an  amplification  of  iv.  10,  11,  10  (cf.  §  1179). 


I 


i 


'  -k'r 


I  If  •■I 

1       ! 


i' 


'H  ,1 


m 


iM 


1: 

4! 


PIP 


2(54 


OCCASIONS  OF   FALSE   TROrilECY 


Book  X 


from  the  divining  women,  whom,  as  a  class,  he  had  sup- 
pressed, so  now  the  desperate  people  of  Jerusalem  turned 
from  the  prophet  of  Jehovah  to  necromancers  and  enchant- 
ers. The  art  of  these  "prophetesses"*  apparently  con- 
sisted in  procuring  tokens  of  the  divine  will  or  omens 
from  responses  given  in  connection  with  peculiar  amulets 
consisting  of  fillets  or  kindred  attachments  worn  by  the 
suppliants.  B}'  means  of  these  enchantments  they  "slew 
the  souls  that  should  not  die  and  saved  the  souls  that 
should  not  live  .  .  .  made  the  heart  of  the  righteous  sad, 
and  strengthened  the  hands  of  the  wicked  that  he  should 
not  return  from  his  wicked  way"  (xiii.  17-23). 

§  1200.  But  the  blame  does  not  rest  entirely  upon 
false  prophets  or  prophetesses,  as  Ezekiel  tells  certain  of 
the  elders  of  Israel  who  come  to  him  to  hear  his  word. 
The  prophets  are  themselves  borne  away  by  the  tempta- 
tion to  answer  their  clients  according  to  their  desires  (cf. 
Mic.  vii.  3).  And  when  the  people  come  to  these  seers 
fresh  from  idolatrous  practices,  or  with  idolatry  in  their 
hearts,  an  "answer  of  peace"  is  in  any  case  impossible 
(cf.  Ps.  Ixvi.  18).  Nay,  Jehovah  himself  may  lead  the 
prophet  astray  in  his  vision  (cf.  Isa.  xxviii.  7),  with  the 
result  that  both  deceiver  and  deceived  have  to  bear  their 
iniquity,  and  both  alike  perish  from  out  of  Israel  (Ez. 
xiv.  1-11). 

§  1201.  In  a  passage  of  more  than  usual  power  of 
expression  Ezekiel  next  sets  forth  his  favourite  doctrine 
of  individual  responsibility.  If  his  hearers  doubt  his  as- 
sertion as  to  this  wholesale  destruction,  they  are  assured 
thfit  even  the  presence  in  Jerusalem  (cf.  v.  21)  of  re- 
nowned spiritual  heroes  of  tradition,  such  as  Noah, 
Daniel, 2  and  Job,  would  not  avail  to  save  their  people, 

1  W.  R.  Smith,  Jonrnal  of  Philology,  xiii.  286  f.  Cf.  Peritz,  Woman 
in  the  Ancient  Hebrew  Cult,  p.  141  f..  and  above,  §  851  no^e. 

2  Here  and  in  ch.  xxviii.  3  Daniel  seems  to  be  a  national  and  even  a 
world-wide  celebrity.  According  to  Dan.  ii.  1,  48,  he  was,  at  a  tender 
age,  made  chief  ruler  in  Babylon  in  603  b.c. 


T\n 


Cii.  VIII,  §  1204      PARABLES   OF   ISRAEL'S   FATE 


2(55 


since,  indeed,  it  was  impossible  in  the  very  nature  of 
things  that  they  couhl  save  any  but  themselves  by  their 
own  righteousness,  ctr.  (Gen.  xviii.  S'2).  How  much 
more  when  Israel  is  without  the  presence  of  such  saints 
of  Jehovah,  and  the  four  dark  messengers,  the  sword,  tand 
famine,  ami  noxious  beasts,  and  pestilence,  are  already  on 
their  way  to  Jerusalem  to  smite  and  not  spare.  "And  ye 
shall  know  that  not  without  cause  have  I  done  all  that  I 
have  done  there,  saith  the  Lord  Jehovah"  (Ez.  xiv.  l'2-2il). 

§  1202.  In  two  parables  the  prophet  further  illustrates 
the  character  and  fate  of  the  remnant  of  Israel.  They  are 
compared  (Ez.  xv.)  to  a  vine-stock  that  bears  no  fruit, 
and  being  useless  for  any  sort  of  work  is  cast  into  the 
fire.  The  more  familiar  figure  of  an  unfaithful  spouse  is 
elaborated  with  all  possible  detail.  Jerusalem  has  abused 
all  the  kindness  of  Jehovah  (xvi.  1-14),  has  been  guilty 
of  the  vilest  ingratitude  by  her  idolatrous  alliances  with 
alien  nations,  following  upon  her  own  abominations,  in- 
cluding even  the  sacrifice  of  children  (vs.  15-34).  The 
punishment  shall  be  greater  even  than  that  of  Samaria  and 
Sodom,  which  she  had  surpassed  in  inic^uity  (vs.  35-51). 
But  Samaria  and  Sodom  and  even  Jerusalem  shall  at 
length  be  restored  to  favour  (vs.  52-G3). 

§  1203.  Before  the.utterance  of  Ezekiel's  next  recorded 
prophecy,  there  is  an  interval  of  about  three  years  (502- 
589  B.C.).  It  was  apparently  a  time  in  which  the  politi- 
cal ferment  of  the  home-land  was  allayed  and  the  prophet 
of  the  Exile  could  minister  with  less  reserve  to  his  fellow- 
captives.  Naturally,  this  brief  period  is  devoid  of  stir- 
ring incident.     Two  passages  remain  as  memorials. 

§  1204.  One  of  these  is  the  great  discourse  of  the  free- 
dom and  responsibility  of  the  individual  in  the  sight  of 
God  (Ez.  xviii.).  This  conception,  in  which  he  follows 
his  master,  Jeremiah  (cf.  Jer.  xxxi.  29  f.),  was,  as  has 
been  often  pointed  out,  peculiarly  suited  to  the  needs  and 
susceptibilities  of  the  exiles.  Their  whole  education  in 
Palestine,  personal  and  national,  had  tended  to  encourage 


:if, 


'  f 

mil 

il 

■  I  .*  i' 


M 


'f 


I 


266 


INDIVIDUAL   RESPONSIBILITY 


Book  X 


in  tliem  the  notion  that  the  individual  had  no  obligations, 
moial  or  religious,  apart  from  the  community  to  which  he 
might  belong  —  the  state,  the  tribe,  the  clan,  or  the  fam- 
ily' group  (cf.  §  1000).  Traditional  prejudices  and  in- 
veterate customs ;  intercommunal  leagues  and  feuds ;  the 
centralizing  tendencies  of  the  national  worship;  the  asso- 
ciations of  ritual  and  sacrifice;  the  sacerdotal  caste  and 
functions,  —  all  these  stood  in  the  way  of  independence  in 
thought  and  endeavour  in  the  moral  and  jeligious  si)here. 
But  these  intellectual  and  spiritual  bonds  received  a  shock 
by  the  breaking  up  of  that  political  and  social  system 
which  had  forged  them  and  kept  them  fast.  And  the 
prophet,  himself  just  emancipated,  would  fain  strike  a 
blow  that  should  rid  his  clients  of  such  fetters  forever. 

§  1205.  Providence  threw  at  his  feet  the  opportunity 
in  the  expatriation  of  the  exiles.  Tlieir  complaint  was 
that  they,  though  the  most  patriotic  and  devout  of  Israel, 
were  now  in  captivity,  while  the  less  worthy  were  enjoy- 
ing liberty  and  citizenship  in  Jerusalem;  that  in  the  very- 
nature  of  the  case  they  must  now  be  suffering  for  the 
offences  of  their  fathers,  quite  apart  from  any  sin  of  their 
own  (cf.  Lam.  v.  7).  With  bitter  resentment  against  the 
obvious  injustice  of  their  lot  the}''  passed  from  lip  to  lip 
the  popular  satire,  "The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes 
and  the  children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge."  "Not  so," 
reasoned  Ezekiel.  "  Every  soul  is  in  the  hands  of  Jeho- 
vah, not  in  the  grip  of  fate,  and  lie  allots  to  each  the  doom 
which  it  has  earned  for  itself,  by  its  own  righteousness 
or  by  its  own  iniquity."  Such  is  the  inference  to  be 
drawn  from  the  doctrine  of  Jeremiah.  The  personal 
application  to  those  who  have  the  care  of  these  souls 
under  Jehovah  is  peculiar  to  Ezekiel,  and  is  taken  up  by 
him  elsewhere  (cf.  §  1342). 

§  1206.  The  last  discourse  of  this  group  (Ez.  xx. 
1-44)  is  given  as  a  stern  reply  to  those  of  the  elders  of 
tlie  community  who  came  to  him  for  counsel  in  August, 
501  iJ.c.    It  is  a  copious  rehearsal  of  the  shame  and  sin  of 


1 1'  '.{* 


Ch.  VIII,  §  1206         PUNISHMENT  JUSTIFIED 


207 


Israel  s  past  history  as  a  justification  of  the  coming  wrath, 
with  a  promise  of  final  redemption  in  its  captivity.  The 
theological  importance  of  the  discourse  is  that  the  chas- 
tisement and  salvation  of  Israel  are  represented  as  de- 
pending upon  the  sovereign  will  of  Jehovah  and  tlie 
necessity  of  his  being  exalted  among  the  nations  of  the 
eartli. 


fi:    1\ 


».',  ' 


i  .-'■ 


L '!  i 


'  i  >  s 

m 


CHAPTER  IX 


II 


!   ;;!,: 


,vW 


■.H 


REBELLION,   SIEGE,   AND   FALL  OF   JERUSALEM 

§  1207.  The  political  agitation  in  Jerusalem  which 
had  not  been  wholly  allayed  by  the  failure  of  the  half- 
formed  conspiracy  and  the  journey  of  Zedekiah  to  his  mas- 
ter in  Babylon  (§  1157,  1171),  was  again  stirred  up  four 
years  thereafter  (589  B.C.)  in  a  more  active  and  danger- 
ous form.  Now  it  was  not  the  petty  communities  of  Pal- 
estine that  urged  revolt,  but  the  turbulent  empire  of  the 
Nile.  Pharaoh  Necho  died  in  594  B.C.,  having  lived  to 
witness  the  occupation  of  Syria  and  Palestine  by  his 
Babylonian  rival,  and  the  defeat  of  the  efforts  made  in 
Palesthie  in  598,  doubtless  with  encouragement  from 
Egypt,  to  get  rid  of  the  yoke  of  Nebuchadrezzar.  That  he 
did  not  actively  intervene  on  behalf  of  Jehoiakim  and 
Jehoiachin  was  perhaps  due  to  the  need  of  action  in 
Nubia.  At  any  rate  his  son  Psammetichus  II.  (594-589) 
found  himself  obliged  at  the  beginning  of  his  reign  to 
march  in  that  direction.  Inscriptions  in  the  Greek,  Carian, 
and  Phoenician  languages  at  Abu  Simbel,  a  little  below 
the  Second  Cataract,  are  probably  memorials  of  the  en- 
campment there  of  some  of  the  mercenary  troops  to  which 
the  dynasty  of  Sais  owed  its  security.  The  role  of 
Necho  in  Asia  was  attempted  by  the  next  king  Ilophra 
("  Apries,"  589-564)  after  the  conclusion  of  this  Nubian 
war. 

§  1208.  The  ambitious  designs  of  this  Pharaoh  gave 
to  the  promoters  of  sedition  in  Jerusalem  the  pretext  for 
action   against  the  Chaldscan   tyrant  which  they  had  so 

268 


1% 

1   1)  1 


Cn.  IX,  §  1209      NATIONAL  AND  MORAL  SITUATION 


269 


30 


long  desired.  It  became  now  a  difficult  task  for  Jeremiah 
or  any  of  his  colleagues  to  make  head  against  the  tumul- 
tuous passion  for  revenge  and  civic  freedom,  nor  was  it  easy 
for  the  average  patriot  to  perceive  how  romantic  was  tlie 
scheme  of  insurrection.  The  petty  kingdoms  of  Pales- 
tine, which  had  been  cowed  by  the  threats  of  Nebuchad- 
rezzar in  593,  now  banded  together  again.  They  gave 
little  material  help  at  the  testing-time.  But  the  alliance 
with  Tyre  seemed  to  guarantee  the  sinews  of  war;  and 
Tyre  held  out  bravely  for  many  years  (§  1213).  So  now 
Jerusalem's  heart  went  out  toward  Egypt,  untaught  by 
the  sad  two  centuries  of  her  cajolery  and  fickleness.  The 
exact  time  of  the  agreement  with  Egypt  and  the  begin- 
ning of  the  revolt  we  cannot  determine,  but  the  accession 
of  Hophra  in  589  suggests  an  approximate  date,  and  we 
know  that  Nebuchadrezzar  marched  into  Judah  before 
the  end  of  588. 

§  1209.  We  have  a  graphic  picture  of  the  moral  situ- 
ation^ from  the  pen  of  Ezekiel  in  a  famous  allegory  or 
riddle.  A  great  eagle,  broad-winged  and  variegated, 
came  to  Lebanon,  broke  off  tlie  topmost  bough  of  a  cedar, 
and  carried  it  to  the  land  of  the  merchants,  an  image  of 
the  capture  and  deportation  of  Jehoiachin.  Then  he  took 
of  tlie  seed  of  the  land  and  planted  it  as  a  vine  (cf.  Ez. 
xix.  10  ff.)  beside  its  native  waters,  trusting  that  its 
branches  miglit  turn  toward  himself  —  an  image  of  Nebu- 
chadrezzar installing  Zedekiah  as  his  vassal  king.  But  the 
ungrateful  vine  spread  its  branches  toward  another  great 
eagle,  —  Zedekiah  turning  toward  Eg3'pt,  —  rousing  the 
just  resentment  of  the  one  who  had  planted  and  watered 
it  (Ez.  xvii.  1-10).  The  application  is  then  made  in  lit- 
eral   terms:  It  was   a   solemn   covenant   confirmed   by  a 

1  The  chronological  order  of  Ezekiel's  prophecies  is  exceptionally  dis- 
turbed by  the  position  of  ch.  xvii.,  which  would  naturally  come  between 
chs.  XX.  and  xxi.  The  occasion  of  the  transposition  is  apparently  the 
desire  to  place  together  the  three  illustrations  of  the  unfaithfulness, 
ingratitude,  and  perfidy  of  Judah  and  its  kings  (chs.  xv.-xvii.). 


h  ! 


1  ? 


;<:; 


t  tr 


i 


111 


f  l![ 

■t 

i 

270 


THE   GREAT   KING  DIVINING 


Book  X 


ilvN 


III 


v;t;':i: 


sacred  oath  to  which  Zedekiah  had  "  given  his  hand."  ^ 
This  covenant  he  has  broken  by  sending  ambassadors  to 
Egypt.  But  his  perjury  and  treachery  will  avail  him 
nothing.  Even  his  allies  the  Egyptians  will  give  him  no 
help  when  his  city  is  besieged  by  the  Chaldteans.  It  is 
Jehovah  himself  whom  he  has  offended,  and  it  is  his  judg- 
ment which  shall  be  executed  upon  Jerusalem  by  the  king 
whom  he  has  deceived  (Ez.  xvii.  11-21).  Yet  from  the 
very  topmost  bow  of  the  cedar  —  the  house  of  David  — 
a  twig  shall  be  taken  and  planted  which  shall  become  a 
goodly  tree,  making  a  home  for  birds  of  every  wing  —  the 
restored  kingdom  of  Israel  (Ez.  xvii.  22-24).  The  whole 
passage  is  a  pendant  to  the  great  discourse  of  Jer.  xxvii. 
delivered  in  593,  following  up  the  earlier  declaration  of 
Jer.  XXV.,  made  in  604,  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  reign 
of  Nebuchadrezzar  (§  1115,  1157). 

§  1210.  In  default  of  an  official  report  of  the  march 
of  Nebuchadrezzar  against  Palestine  (cf.  §  1213)  we  have 
from  Ezekiel  an  ideal  picture  of  the  Great  King  taking 
counsel  vith  his  gods  as  to  the  attack  on  Jerusalem.  It  is 
given  in  ti.e  course  of  a  declamation  almost  lyrical  in 
form  and  spirit,  upon  "the  sword  of  Jehovah,"  which  is 
described  as  sharpened  and  furbished  for  its  terrible  work 
among  the  doomed  and  guilty  people  of  Jerusalem 
(Ez.  xxi.  1-17).  It  is  the  sword  of  the  king  of  Babylon 
which  Jehovah  uses  as  his  own.  Before  it  is  drawn  to 
strike,  he  who  is  wielding  it  stands  "  at  the  parting  of  the 
ways"  at  a  place  where  the  prophet  sets  up  two  finger- 
posts, one  pointing  to  Rabbath  Amnion,  and  the  other  to 
Jerusalem.  In  perplexity  as  to  which  road  he  should 
take,  the  Great  King  resorts  to  his  oracles :  "He  shook  the 
arrows  to  and  fro ;  he  consulted  the  teraphim,  he  in- 
spected   the    liver.     In   his    right    hand    comes   the   lot 

1  Presumably  the  oath  was  sworn  both  by  the  gods  of  Babylonia  (cf. 
Ez.  xvii.  10)  and  by  Jehovah  (Ez.  xvii.  10),  the  God  of  the  land  whose 
favour  the  over-lord  supposed  he  had  acquired  (2  K.  xviii.  2u),  and  in 
whose  local  existence  and  power  he  fully  believed. 


1:, 


Ch.  IX,  §  1211 


WORKING  THE   ORACLE 


271 


m 


'Jerusalem,'  that  he  may  open  his  mouth  with  shrieking 
and  raise  the  battle-crj'',  set  battering-rams  against  the 
gates,  throw  up  ramparts,  and  erect  siege-towers "  (xxi. 
18-22). 

§  1211.  The  figure,  though  somewhat  mixed,  gives  its 
own  interpretation.  One  feels  himself  transported  to  the 
Babylonian  environment  of  the  prophet,  the  proper  home 
of  oracles  and  prognostications  (cf.  Isa.  xlvii.  12  If.),  whose 
literature  abounds  with  records  of  omens  for  kings  prepar- 
ing for  warlike  expeditions  or  setting  out  upon  them.^ 
The  procedure  here  indicated  was  somewhat  as  follows.^ 
The  king  of  Babylon,  or  rather  the  priest  as  his  mediator, 
comes  before  the  image  of  his  god,  a  prescribed  formula 
of  prayer  is  recited,  and  an  animal  sacrifice  offered.  The 
deity  gives  his  answer  through  special  forms  of  the  lot. 
Here  two  are  instanced.  The  liver  of  the  animal  might  be 
inspected,  to  see  whether  its  colour  or  texture  indicated  a 
propitious  result.  But  in  the  present  case,  where  a  choice 
between  two  courses  is  aimed  at,  a  more  specific  mode  of 
decision  must  be  adopted.  Hence  resort  was  had  to  belo- 
mancy  or  rhabdomancy,^  as  it  is  called,  or  divination  by 

1  The  omens  noted  for  the  expeditions  of  Sargon  I  and  Narani-Sin 
(§  00)  were  of  this  general  character.  The  subject  of  such  omens  of 
niitional  import  Is  treated  in  Jastrow,  RBA.  p.  S'-j2  If.  Contrast  the  style 
and  spirit  of  the  beautiful  prayer  in  l*s.  xx.,  uttered  under  similar  circum- 
stances (§  107.']). 

2  The  "  teraphim  "  are  named  here  as  a  general  expression  in  deference 
to  Hebrew  usage.  The  fitness  of  the  term  as  used  for  the  special  personal 
protecting  deity  of  the  king  i.s  obvious :  (1)  the  teraphim  were  domestic 
tutelary  divinities;  (2)  tliey  were  often  consulted  for  oracles.  Cf.  Jud. 
xvii.  5  ;  2  K.  xxiii.  24  ;  IIos.  iii.  4. 

"  It  is  to  Jerome  that  we  owe  these  terms,  as  well  as  the  earliest  account 
(if  the  process  of  divining  by  arrows,  which  he  gives  in  his  commentary 
on  the  present  passage.  SeeGesenius,  Thrsunrus,  s.v.  cDi-^,  where  authori- 
ties are  calso  quoted  as  to  the  prevalence  of  tlie  usage  in  Arabia.  In  con- 
nection with  the  same  subject,  Wellhausen,  lli'stcanihisrlii'ii  Ifridoitiimi'S 
(1887),  p.  12G  f.,  comments  fully  upon  our  text.  Cf.  W.  R.  Smith,  Jour- 
nal of  Philoloffii,  xiii,  p.  278.  On  Babylonian  divination  generally,  see 
licnormant,  Ln  divination  chez  les  ChnhUens  (largely  superseded) ;  King, 
liahylonian  Muijic  and  Sorcery  (1890);  Jastrow,  RUA.  chs.  xvi.-x.K. 


It 


I'  : 


1  > 


I .,.: 


272 


MORAL  SUMMING  UP 


Book  X 


means  of  arrows.  A  number  of  these  were  put  in  a  quiver 
or  case,  after  being  inscribed  with  the  name  or  some  other 
distinguishing  mark  of  the  several  objects  represented  by 
them.  They  were  then  shaken,  and  the  arrow  which 
was  firat  drawn  out  indicated  the  choice  —  in  this  case 
Jerusalem. 

§  1212.  Thus  Ezekiel  interpreted  the  preparations  for 
war,  the  rumours  of  which  were  borne  by  busy  tongues 
to  his  secluded  dwelling.  Pending  the  actual  march  he 
repeats  his  denunciations  against  Jerusalem,  on  account  of 
her  many  gross  and  incorrigible  vices  (Ez.  xxii.).  He  then 
concludes  these  intervening  prophecies  by  an  allegorical 
review  of  the  relations  between  Samaria  and  Jerusalem,  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  several  foreign  nations  with  which 
they  have  intrigued,  on  the  other,  showing  the  moral  and 
religious  infidelities  against  Jehovah  of  these  two  sister- 
kingdoms  (Ez.  xxiii.).  In  these  as  well  as  in  his  vfiticina- 
tions  during  the  siege  of  Jerusalem,  we  see  a  paradox  some- 
what similar  to  that  presented  by  Jeremiali  (§  1107  f.). 
A  prophet  overflowing  with  love  for  his  people  uses 
against  them  the  language  of  contempt  and  loathing, 
while  he  seems  to  gloat  over  their  sufferings  and  their 
punishment.  The  exi)lanation  is  (1)  rhetorical  extrava- 
gance of  speech ;  (2)  indignation  against  wrong  and  irre- 
ligion ;  (3)  the  racial  habit  of  looking  at  people  not  as 
individuals  but  as  a  class,  whose  sensibilities  are  not  so 
obvious  to  a  censor. 

§  1213.  The  expedition  of  Nebuchadrezzar  against  Pal- 
estine started  in  588  B.C.  It  was  vast  (Jer.  xxxiv.)  and 
formidable.  He  established  his  headquarters  at  the  central 
strategic  point,  at  Riblah  on  the  upper  Orontes  (§  1038). 
There  he  was  midway  between  Carchemish,  the  fortress 
won  from  Egypt,  and  the  border  of  that  country  which  he 
intended  to  subdue.^     Thence  also  he  could  strike  speedily 

1  We  have  monuinental  reminders  of  the  marches  of  Nebuchadrezzar 
througli  Syria  and  Palestine,  thougli  unfortunately  they  contain  no 
leference  to  his  military  operations.     lu  the  Wady  Brissa,   not    far 


1' 


zar 
ino 
far 


Ch.  IX,  §  1213 


THE   CAMPAIGN  BEGUN 


273 


at  the  revolted  cities  of  Phoenicia.  Tyre,  indeed,  was  with 
Jerusalem  a  chief  point  of  attack.  It  had  long  been 
the  only  Phoenician  state  capable  of  resisting  a  strong 
foreign  power.^  Now,  more  pros[)er()us  than  ever,  it  was 
as  unwilling  to  yield  its  commercial  franchise  to  Nebuchad- 
rezzar as  formei'ly  to  Esarhaddon  (§  754).  It  is  probable 
that  a  force  was  sent  at  once  to  blockade  the  Tyrians  — 
who,  after  their  manner,  retired  to  their  "  new  Tyre  "  (cf. 
§  G81)  and  long  resisted  the  besiegers.  We  do  not  know 
tiiat  the  Ammonites,  after  all  (ef.  §  1210),  remained  in 
revolt.  At  any  rate,  tliey  were  unfriendly  towards  Judah 
during  this  whole  period  (Ez.  xxv.  1  ff. ;  Jer.  xl,  1-4 ;  cf. 
xlix.  1  ff.).  The  territory  of  Judah  was  certainly  the  chief 
field  of  the  Chalda}an  military  operations.  Wliile  a  suffi- 
cient army  advanced  upon  and  invested  Jerusalem,  the 
other  fortified  cities  were  rapidly  taken,  till  soon  Lachish 
and  Azekab  alone  offered  resistance  (Jer.  xxxiv.  7),  and 
these  doubtless  surrendered  before  the  fall  of  the  capital. 


from  Riblah,  at  the  foot  of  Jebel-Akkar,  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
Lebanon  range,  two  long  inscriptions,  accompanied  by  bas-reliefs,  were 
found  by  II.  Tognon,  Frencli  vice-consnl  at  Heynit,  wlio  publislied  tlieni, 
witli  plates,  in  his  work,  Lcs  iiiscripliinis  hahyhiiiieiiiies  dii  Wadi  Brissd, 
Paris,  1887.  They  relate,  like  most  of  tlie  otlier  inscriptions  of  the  Great 
King,  to  his  buildings  and  fortifications  in  Bal)yl(in.  Another  is  written 
in  archaic  characters  on  the  right  side  of  tlie  Nalir  el  Kelb,  or  Dog  Hiver, 
eight  miles  nortli  of  Bey  rut,  and  was  discdvered  beneath  an  overgrowth 
of  sh.'ubs  and  ferns  in  1881.  The  old  high  roiid  from  Damascus  to  the 
coast  led  along  tins  river,  and  on  the  ojjposite  side  had  already  been  found 
tlie  names  of  Uamses  II.,  Sinacherib,  and  Esarhaddon.  Tlie  inscription  is 
mostly  undecipherable  through  weathering.  AVliat  can  be  made  out  most 
surely  is  a  list  of  wines  of  southern  Syria,  in  which  that  of  llelbon  stands 
conspicuous  (cf.  Ez.  xxvii.  18).  The  contents  of  the  Wady  Brissa  in- 
scriptions show  that  they  could  not  have  been  written  as  early  as  Nebu- 
chadrezzar's first  campaign  (§  1078),  as  Renan  seems  to  suppose  {Ilistuire 
dupeuple  d' Israel,  III,  288). 

1  We  cannot  infer  from  Ez.  xxviii.  20-24  that  Ridon  had  revolted  from 
the  Chaldieans.  This  brief  prophecy  is  of  a  general  character  and  merely 
indicates  that  Sidon  shall  be  punished,  because  of  old  time  it  had  been  "  a 
galling  brier  and  a  smarting  thorn  to  the  house  of  Israel,"  —  an  allusion 
apparently  to  the  men-stealing  raids  of  the  PhcBniciana  (Am.  i.  0). 


M 


i  ^' 


!    l^' 


In. 


:1 


it 


it 


274 


ZKDKKIAII   SEEKS   COUNSEL 


Book  X 


1,1   ' 


I      ■       .i: 

■<.i 
•■■•1 

:  i 


§  1214.  It  was  on  the  tenth  day  of  tlie  tenth  month  of 
the  ninth  year  of  Zedekiah,  that  is,  in  January,  587  (2  K. 
XXV.  1 ;  Jer.  xxxix.  1 ;  lii.  4 ;  Ez.  xxiv.  1  f.)  that  the 
Chaldican  army  appeared  before  Jerusalem.  Of  the  details 
and  progress  of  the  siege  operations  we  are  not  informed. 
Presumably  the  north  side  of  the  city,  as  in  all  the  ancient 
sieges,  was  the  quarter  chiefly  assailed.  Only  there  indeed 
could  the  storming  towers  and  mantelets  be  brought  into 
play.  The  resistance  was  stubborn  and  brave  ;  for  it  was 
known  that  this  final  revolt  if  unsuccessful  would  meet 
with  no  mercy. 

§  1215.  Of  the  feelings  and  temper  of  the  besieged 
some  indications  are  given  by  Jeremiah.  Zedekiah  fell 
into  a  panic  as  soon  as  the  extent  and  energy  of  the 
besieging  force  were  fully  disi)layed.  The  words  of  Jere- 
miah were  still  ringing  in  his  bewildered  ears.  Now  that 
their  fulfilment  seemed  possible  the  stern  and  faithful 
preacher  gained  an  ascendency  over  the  king  wliich  he 
never  wholly  lost.  Zedekiah  had  always  felt  that  Jere- 
miah had  the  ear  of  Jehovah  as  the  rival  prophets  had 
not,  and  as  an  oracle  was  now  in  great  request,  he  sent 
a  deputation  —  Pashhur,^  son  of  Malchiah,  and  Zepha- 
niah  the  priest  —  with  a  message :  "  Inquire,  I  pray  thee, 
of  Jehovah  for  us ;  for  Nebuchadrezzar,  king  of  Babylon, 
is  making  war  upon  us :  perhaps  Jehovah  will  deal  with 
us  according  to  all  his  wondrous  deeds,  and  he  will  go 
away  from  us  "  (Jer.  xxi.  1,  2).  The  expectation  was  not 
so  fatuous  as  it  might  appear.  The  nearest  precedent 
for  the  present  situation  was  the  siege  of  Jerusalem  by 
Sinacherib.  If  Jeremiah  was  the  true  successor  of  the 
great  Isaiah,  might  not  Zedekiah  be  equal  in  fate  to  his  an- 
cestor Ilezekiah,  and  receive  such  an  answer  as  that  which 
presaged  the  destruction  of  the  Assyrian  host?  Jeremiah's 
client  was,  however,  soon  undeceived.  The  answer  was, 
if  possible,  a  fiercer  and  more  cruel  threatening  than  any 

^  Not  to  be  confounded  with  the  son  of  Immer,  who  put  Jeremiah  in 
the  stocks  (§1111). 


1 


by 

tlie 
an- 
lich 
iiU's 
vas, 
any 

ih  ill 


Cii.  §  IX,  1217 


UNFAVOURABLE   HKPLV 


276 


yet  delivered.  It  told  of  the  helplessness  of  the  armed 
defenders  of  the  city,  because  Jehovah  himself  was  to 
fight  against  them.  Jerusalem  was  to  be  taken  and  put 
to  the  flames.  There  was  but  one  chance  of  safety  for 
the  inhabitants:  if  they  were  to  go  out  and  fall  away  to 
the  Chakheans,  they  should  live  (Jer.  xxi.  3-10). 

§  1210.  For  such  a  heart-breaking  reply  the  king  was 
scarcely  prepared.  He  had  become  accustomed  to  these 
reiterated  threats  and  had  looked  upon  them  as  outworn 
generalities.  But  they  took  on  a  more  serious  aspect 
when  the  swords  of  the  besiegers  flashed  before  him  in 
the  level  rays  of  the  January  sun.  Moreover,  the  answer 
contained  an  element  of  danger.  The  very  suggestion 
that  safety  might  be  gained  by  individuals  if  they  were 
to  go  out  and  enter  the  camp  of  the  besiegers  must  have 
weakened  the  defence  (cf.  xxxviii.  4),  and  indeed  in  ordi- 
nary cases  would  justify  a  charge  of  high  treason.  Yet 
this  prophet  of  evil  now  added  to  his  offence  by  again 
assuring  Zedekiah  that  Jerusalem  would  fall  and  he  him- 
self be  brought  before  the  king  of  Babylon  for  judgment 
(Jer.  xxxiv.  1-3).  There  was,  however,  a  certain  mitiga- 
tion of  this  cruel  fate :  the  life  of  the  captive  king  was  to 
be  spared,  and  he  was  to  be  interred  at  last  with  a  royal 
funeral  (xxxiv.  4,  5).^ 

§  1217.  The  prophet's  softening  mood  towards  Zede- 
kiah was  in  some  measure  both  cause  and  effect  of  a  tem- 
porary change  in  the  conduct  of  both  king  and  people. 
The  resentment  of  the  army  officers  was  smothered  for  a 

1  Indicated  by  tlie  words,  "  With  the  burnings  of  tliy  fatlicrs.  tlie 
former  kings  which  were  before  tliee,  so  shall  they  make  a  burning  fur 
thee."  This  was  the  burning  of  aromatic  spices  performed  at  the  burial 
of  Asa  (2  Chr.  xvi.  14)  and  denied  to  Jehoram  (2  Clir.  xxi.  10).  "Wo 
must  not  take  too  literally  the  details  of  such  personal  predictions.  It  is 
useless  to  say  that  such  an  interment  was  possible  in  Babylonia  to  the 
exiled  king  of  Judali,  and  equally  unnecessary  to  explain  the  promise  as 
conditional,  like  Jer.  xxxviii.  20  (so  Hitzig  and  Orelli).  Batlier  must  we 
put  the  declaration  in  the  same  category  as  the  uiifultilled  prediction 
concerning  Jehoiaehin  (§  1144  ff.). 


'  'I'!. 


"  :ti 


V|i 


I  m 


'1  i 


■.1 
h  ■ 


m 


Uf;"!' 


270 


I'UKKING  TIIK    BONDMKN 


Book  X 


while,  and  tho  terrors  of  the  siege  unnerved  the  courtiers 
hitely  so  bellicose  and  confident.  Jeremiah  seized  the 
oppoi'tunity  to  promote  a  practi(!al  work  of  grace  among 
his  intimidated  fellow-citizens.  We  recall  hero  the  part 
played  by  the  system  of  slavery  in  the  social  and  national 
life  of  the  Hebrews  (§  539  ff.).  The  condition  and  treat- 
ment of  slaves  at  this  period  was  of  vital  importance  to  the 
state,  of  more  importance  indeed  to  the  masters  than  to 
the  servants  themselves.  The  habitual  temper  of  the  rul- 
ing classes  (§  587  ff.)  and  the  sudden  changes  of  fortune 
which  had  bi'ought  some  of  the  poorest  of  the  people  sud- 
denly to  the  front  (§  1153),  combined  with  popular  irreli- 
gion  and  frivolity  to  foster  the  selfisluiess  and  cruelty  which 
seem  almost  inherent  in  Oriental  social  life.  Against 
these  evils  such  legislation  as  Israel  had  ( §  586)  seemed 
to  have  but  little  effect.  For  example,  it  was  an  ancient 
prescription  of  the  first  Book  of  the  Covenant  that  pro- 
vided for  the  release  of  Israelitish  slaves  after  six  years' 
servitude  (Ex.  xxi.  2);  and  it  was  not  long  since  the  same 
enactment  had  been  published  in  a  more  precise  and  elab- 
orate form  (Deut.  xv.  12  ff.).  This  humane  and  whole- 
some statute  had  been  disregarded.  Now  it  was  suddenly 
brought  home  to  the  masters  that  such  a  policy  was  sui- 
cidal. Every  freeman  counted  as  a  warrior,  fighting  at  his 
own  expense  (§  520)  ;  a  body  of  freemen  counted  for  more 
in  the  defence  of  the  city  than  a  force  largely  made  up  of 
discontented  slaves,  and  Jerusalem  never  had  sorer  need 
of  defenders. 

§  1218.  But  now  this  year  587  witnessed  such  a  jubi- 
lee as  was  never  seen  in  Israel  before  or  since.  Partly 
moved  by  interest  and  partly  pricked  by  an  uneasy  con- 
science, the  masters  released  all  their  slaves,  not  merely 
those  who  had  passed  the  legal  term  of  servitude,  but  those 
also  who  had  been  lately  acquired  (Jer.  xxxiv.  8  ff.). 
The  manumission  seemed  to  propitiate  the  offended  Law- 
giver, for  it  was  followed  by  the  withdrawal  of  the  besieg- 
ing army.      And  what    appeared  doubly   auspicious,    it 


EH;  1 


i^H 


Ch.  IX,  §  1219 


THEIR   UKKNSLAVEMENT 


277 


was  an  army  of  relief  from  Eg3'pt  that  led  to  the  raising 
of  the  siege.  "  For  Pharaoh's  army  was  eome  out  of  Egypt, 
and  when  the  Chaldieans  that  were  besieging  Jerusalem 
heard  tidings  of  them  they  went  away  from  Jerusalem  " 
(Jer.  xxxvii.  5).  The  grateful  people  now  beeame  elated 
with  the  prospect  of  tiie  defeat  of  their  enemies,  and  ere 
long  they  were  as  confident  and  careless  as  ever.  Soon  it 
occurred  to  them  that  perhaps  their  great  sacrifice  had 
been  unnecessary.  Their  gratulations  were  mixed  with 
the  remorse  of  disappointed  avarice  as  they  saw  themselves 
defrauded  of  their  property  by  their  own  sentimental  weak- 
ness. Such  an  act  of  romantic  generosity  should  be  undone 
if  possible.  The  king  and  the  nobles  took  the  lead  in 
showing  that  it  was  possible,  and  soon  the  poor  freedmen 
found  themselves  again  under  their  accustomed  burdens. 
Nothing  better  illustrates  the  moral  degeneracy  of  Jerusa- 
lem, or  shows  how  good  a  case  Jeremiah  had  against  tiie 
leaders  of  his  people. 

§  1219.  The  occasion  demanded  a  strong  word  from 
the  prophet.  His  fierce  denunciation  was  perhaps  more 
telling  than  any  he  had  hitherto  uttered.  He  did  not  now 
give  an  oracle  whose  authenticity  might  be  (questioned,  or 
any  assertion  of  his  personal  prerogative.  Nor  was  the 
offence  one  of  the  conventional  sins  of  the  upper  classes, 
whose  reprobation  had  become  a  commonplace.  His  in- 
dignation had  all  the  moral  force  and  freshness  of  Elijah's 
denunciation  of  the  crime  against  Naboth.  Jeremiah's 
charge  was  irresistible  because  he  could  claim  that  the  suf- 
ferers Avere  defrauded  of  rights  which  had  been  granted 
to  unfortunate  Hebrews  from  the  very  beginning  of 
the  nation  (xxxiv.  13  f.,  cf.  §  548).  Thus  the  sin  was 
committed  against  Jehovah  not  merely  as  the  God  of 
righteousness  and  mercy  but  also  as  Israel's  ruler  and  law- 
giver. Finally,  the  guilt  of  perjury  was  brought  home  to 
the  sacrilegious  oppressors ;  for  the  emancipation  had  been 
confirmed  by  a  solemn  oath  and  covenant  (xxxiv.  18  f. ; 
cf.  Gen.  XV.  9  ff.). 


\'f: 


:  i 

i 


■!  '. 


278 


EFFKCT  OF  Ari'AUEXT   KELIEF 


DooK  X 


m 


111 


0 


M.  ,u, 


§  ]'22i).  The  triiiisaction  furiiLshed  a  line  opportunity 
for  a  renewed  announcement  of  the  coming  doom  of  the 
city.  Indeed,  it  was  a  sort  of  moral  vindication  of  Jere- 
miah's next  disclosure.  For  Zedekiah  had  in  the  mean- 
time soujiht  once  more  a  favourahle  oracle.  Thinkinj' 
that  the  liberation  of  the  slaves  would  procure  the  divine 
favour,  and  that  the  ChaUheans  would  be  worsted  by 
the  ICgyptians,  lie  had  sent  another  deputation  to  Jere- 
miah, saying,  "  I'ray  now  to  Jehovah  our  God  for  us." 
Thus  Hezekiah  had  sent  to  Isaiah  when  Jerusali^m  was 
ready  to  fall  before  Sinaeherib.  The  answer  now  was 
that  the  Chaldieans  would  return  to  fight  against  Jeru- 
salem and  would  take  it  and  burn  it  with  fire  (Jer.  xxxvii. 
-J-10).  The  oracle  seemed  cruel  and  im[)robable,  and 
reawakened  the  resentment  of  the  rulei-s  airainst  Jeremiah. 
The  Egyptian  interlude  lengthened  itself  out,  and  the 
Chaldii'ans  did  not  soon  return. 

§  1221.  The  hopes  of  the  deluded  Jerusalemitcs  rose 
yet  higher.  With  the  lengthening  reprieve  of  the  city 
the  po[)ular  wrath  against  the  prophet  of  evil  omen  grew 
almost  beyond  control.  It  was  apparently  only  the  moral 
advantage  given  him  by  their  selfisli  poltroonery  that  kept 
them  from  laying  violent  hands  upon  him.  Such  an  out- 
spoken rebel  would  be  sure,  however,  to  furnish  occasion 
for  a  plausible  charge  of  high  treason.  The  opportunity 
soon  came,  and  in  a  fashion  that  left  his  enemies  nothing 
to  be  desired.  He  had  business  to  attend  to  in  his  native 
Anathoth,  connected  with  his  personal  share  of  the  family 
estate  (cf.  §  1225).  Making  his  way  northward  through 
the  gate  of  Benjamin,^  he  was  arrested  by  a  sentinel  named 
Irijali  on  the  ground  that  he  wjis  "falling  away  to   the 


1  It  was  near  this  gate  that  the  Chaldeans  had  been  encamped  (§  1214) ; 
and  although  it  was  also  the  chief  avenue  of  communication  with  all  the 
northern  c<nintry,  the  worse  of  the  two  possible  motives  for  his  attempted 
exit  was  naturally  attributed  to  him.  Doubtless,  also,  many  of  the  citi- 
zens had  already  passed  through  that  same  gate  and  "  fallen  away  to  the 
Chaldaeans  "  (cf.  xxxviii.  19). 


1 


Cm.  IX,  §  12-22 


JKUKMIAII   A   rUISON'KIl 


270 


C'liaUhuans  "  (Jer.  xxxvii.  11-1:5).  lie  deiiiud  tho  cluir^t!, 
but  in  vain.  Irijuli  brought  him  before  the  "prinees,"  who 
constituted  the  king's  council.  Tiio  charge  was  not  so 
tlimsy  as  at  fust  sight  it  seems  to  us.  The  main  body  of 
tiie  enemy  was,  to  bo  sure,  far  from  Jerusalem,  but  spies 
and  bands  of  scouts  were  everywhere.  It  may  even  have 
been  believed  that  he  was  seeking  a  meeting  with  one 
of  their  emissaries,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  tlie  city. 
As  lie  was  professedly  expecting  the  surrender  of  the 
city  within  a  very  few  days,  was  it  not  fair  to  8Ui)pose  that 
he  woidil  help  to  make  good  his  prediction?  One  or  two 
inlluential  well-wisliers  in  the  council  might  have  cleared 
or  at  least  shielded  Jeremiah.  But  now  there  was  no 
Ahikam  at  court  to  champion  his  cause  (§  1092).  Zede- 
kiah,  though  the  greatest  sufferer  then  and  thereafter  by 
the  word  of  Jeremiah,  was  still  well  disposed  to  him.  liut 
lie  was  powerless  against  his  own  courtiers  (cf.  xxxviii.  f)').^ 
So  the  judgment  was  passed :  the  prophet  was  denounced 
and  beaten,  and  then  cast  into  the  prison  reserved  for  state 
criminals.  It  was  the  house  of  Jonathan,  the  otricial  secre- 
tary, beneath  which  vaulted  cells  had  been  constructed 
(xxxvii.  14  f.).  Here  he  was  left,  to  die  of  starvation 
and  neglect,  like  many  thousands  of  Oriental  prisoners 
before  and  after  him  (cf.  Isa.  li.  14). 

§  1222.  Meanwhile  the  decisive  turn  of  affairs  had 
taken  place  which  settled  the  fate  alike  of  accused  and 
accusers,  of  masters  and  slaves,  of  true  men  and  traitors. 
Not  many  days  passed  when,  as  any  experienced  observer 
might  have  foreseen,  the  Chalda'an  army  again  appeared 
beftire  Jerusalem.  How  it  had  disposed  of  the  Egyptian 
army  of  relief  we  are  not  infornu'd.  The  Egyptians  may 
have  occupied  Gaza  (Jer.  xlvii.  1)  and  advanced  no  farther. 

1  Another  passage  (xxxii.  3-5),  apparently  written  by  a  biographical 
compiler  (of.  Coriiill,  p.  03),  states  that  Zedekiah  had  put  .loremiah  in 
prison  because  of  his  announcement  of  the  impending  capture  of  the  city 
and  of  the  king  himself.  This  is  also  true  in  the  sense  th.at  the  royal 
authority  had  to  be  given  to  the  sentence  of  imprisonment  for  treason. 


'■      I 


^, 


4 


\'. 


'1' 

ii 


280 


AN  HEROIC  DEFENCE 


Book  X 


Certainly  no  great  battle  was  fought,  and  it  is  reasonable 
to  suppose  that  after  a  slight  skirmish  the  troops  of  Pha- 
raoh Hophra  beat  a  hasty  retreat  (Jer.  xxxvii.  7).  The 
('haldiuans  met  with  no  opposition  from  the  fortified  towns 
of  Judah.  The  Chaldioans  resumed  the  blockade  of  the 
capital,  fearing  now  as  little  from  the  restless  Egyptians 
as  from  the  unwarlike  Tyrians. 

§  1223.  The  leaders  of  the  revolt  had  had  control  of 
civic  affairs  from  the  beginning  of  the  siege,  and  they 
maintained  it  to  the  end.  They  were,  indeed,  the  only 
ones  in  the  city  capable  of  leadership  in  any  fashion,  and 
to  their  credit  be  it  said,  they  met  the  crushing  reverse 
of  fortune  like  truest  patriots.  Tiiey  could  hardly  expect 
deliverance  now,  and  prolonged  resistance  could  only 
aggravate  the  final  punishment.  Yet  there  was  no  sign 
of  flinching,  no  compromise  with  the  enemy,  or  offer  of 
surrender  for  easier  terms.  They  strove  to  the  last  to 
keep  up  the  spirit  of  the  defenders ;  and  however  their 
own  hearts  may  have  failed  them,  they  frowned  sternly 
upon  every  symptom  of  despair  and  every  suggestion  of 
submission.  Let  us  give  our  meed  of  admiration  to  this 
forlornest  hope  of  a  desperate  yet  not  wholly  ignoble 
cause.  At  this  distance  of  time  we  can  afford  to  be  im- 
partial. We  are  not  dealing  with  modern  South  Africans 
but  with  ancient  Hebrew  patriots.  Some  of  them  had 
acted  wickedly  and  all  of  them  foolishly;  but  as  to  the 
mainspring  of  the  rebellion  for  which  they  were  now  suf- 
fering the  penalty,  who  can  say  that  the  motive  was 
wholly  wrong?  That  they  believed  they  were  right  may 
be  argued  from  their  heroic  demeanour  in  the  presence 
of  the  cruel  death  which  from  the  beginning  they  kept 
in  view  as  the  ftate  of  unsuccessful  rebels.  To  most 
interested  contemporaries  it  always  appears  that  of  two 
opi)osing  policies  one  is  entirely  right  and  the  other 
entirely  wrong,  because  the  feverish  demand  for  immediate 
action  obscures  the  larger  issues  of  the  controversy.  For 
us  it  should  be  possible  to  see  that  the  higher  and  broader 


^1 


Ch.  IX,  §  1225 


JEREMIAH  A   rUISONEK 


281 


patriotism  of  Jeremiah  might  coexist  in  the  same  moral 
reahn  with  the  more  impulsive  and  erratic  self-devotion  of 
his  rivals,  as  the  retrograde  motion  of  the  comet  is  made 
in  obedience  to  the  laws  of  the  solar  system  as  well  as 
the  direct  motion  of  the  planet. 

§  1224.  Jeremiah  lay  helpless  for  a  time  in  his  dungeon. 
It  was  to  Zedekiah  himself  that  he  owed  his  comparative 
freedom.  With  the  return  of  the  Chakheans,  the  king's 
trembling  heart  again  turned  towards  the  prophet,  whose 
predictive  word  had  once  more  been  verified.  He  had 
him  secretly  to  his  house,  and  said :  "  Is  there  any  word 
from  Jehovah  ?  "  and  Jeremiah  said :  "  There  is,"  and  added : 
"  Thou  shalt  be  delivered  into  the  hand  of  the  king  of  Baby- 
lon." After  reminding  him  of  the  failure  and  collapse  of 
the  rival  prophets,  he  concluded  by  begging  Zedekiah  not 
to  let  him  go  back  to  the  dungeon  in  the  house  of  Jonathan. 
The  king  succeeded  in  having  him  placed  in  the  "court 
of  the  guard,"  that  is  to  say,  in  the  court-yard  adjoining 
the  royal  residence,  wliere  suspected  persons  and  other 
less  obnoxious  civil  prisoners  were  kept  in  a  sort  of 
"honourable  confinement,"  though  probably  fettered  by 
the  foot-chain.  Here  he  was  not  to  be  dependent,  as  in 
the  dungeon,  upon  a  casual  visitor  for  a  precarious  supply 
of  food,  but  Avas  by  the  king's  command  to  receive  a 
griddle-cake  daily  from  the  baker's  bazar.  This  was  suj^v 
plied  to  him  regularly  till  all  the  bread  in  the  city  was 
exhausted  at  the  end  of  the  siege  (xxxvii.  1(>-21). 

§  1225.  To  prisoners  of  his  present  class,  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances were  admitted  uader  the  surveillance  of  the 
guard.  While  in  this  court  of  the  guard  Jeremiah  received 
a  visit  from  Ilanameel,  his  cousin-german  of  Anathoth. 
Between  these  two  a  transaction  took  place,  singular  for 
the  place  and  time,  but  signally  illustrative  of  Jeremiah's 
transcendent  faith  and  foresight.  It  was  in  connection 
witli  the  family  estate  that  he  had  made  the  frustrated 
attempt  to  go  to  Anathoth  (§  1221),  and  now  Ilanameel 
comes  to  see  him  in  his  prison  upon  the  same  business. 


■\  i 


I      1» 


I' 

r 


m 


fF 


282 


A   RKAL-KSTATE   TRANSACTION 


Book  X 


m 


Jeremiah  was  asked  to  fulfil  the  duty  incumbent  on  him 
as  the  representative  of  the  family  (of.  Ruth  iv.  4),  to  buy 
the  property  from  Hanameel.^  This  settlement  of  the 
title  to  his  property  suggested  the  whole  question  of  the 
gloomy  and  desolate  future  of  the  fatherland.  The  visit 
of  Ilanameel,  thus  fulfilling  his  own  thwarted  purpose,  he 
greeted  as  a  providential  token  of  the  final  restoration 
of  peace  and  order.  Ilence  he  made  the  purchase  from 
Hanameel,  according  to  all  the  legal  requirements,^  on  the 
ground  of  Jehovah's  promise:  "  Houses  and  fields  and  vine- 
yards shall  again  be  bought  in  this  land"  (xxxii.  fj-15). 
§  12'2(j.  The  inspiration  to  transact  this  business  he  had 
thus  recognized  at  once  as  comingr  from  Jehovah.    But  no 

1  Tliere  seems  to  be  general  misunderstand ina;  of  the  nature  of  this 
transaction.  It  was  only  the  legal  title  to  tlie  estate  tiiat  was  in  question. 
Legally,  Jeremiah,  as  the  chief  agnate,  should  own  it,  but  he  could  only 
secure  the  right  by  paying  the  occupant  the  value  of  this  right,  not  neces- 
sarily the  full  value  of  the  property.  This  helps  to  explain  why  so  trifling 
a  sum  was  paid.  The  expositors  attempt  to  show  that  the  seventeen  shek- 
els (about  eleven  dollars)  was  not  an  unreasonable  price. 

2  The  legal  process  of  the  transfer  of  the  title  is  fully  described  In 
.Ter.  xxxii.  0-11,  a  passage  which  is  our  only  snurce  of  information  on 
the  matter.  The  minute  account  needs  scarcely  any  cfimmentary  except 
to  say  that  it  is  now  generally  agreed  that  the  words  rendered  in  KV., 
"according  to  the  law  and  custom,"  winch  are  wanting  in  the  Sept., 
should  bo  ondtted.  Stade  (in  ZATW.  V,  170  f.)  and  Cornill  (Text  of 
Jeremiah,  pp.  22,  G4)  follow  Ilitzig  in  maintaining  that  there  was  only 
one  copy  of  the  contract,  a  part  of  which  was  folded  up  and  sealed  and 
a  part  left  open.  This  is  unnecssary.  It  is  not  suppf)rteil  by  v.  10  (cf. 
V.  44),  which  speaks  not  of  one  copy,  but  of  one  document  or  record. 
Moreover,  the  text,  as  left  to  us  after  the  emendations  of  Stade  (followed 
by  Cornill),  sjjcaks  just  as  plainly  as  ever  of  two  copies,  '-  the  .sealed  and 
the  open  "  (vs.  11,  14).  The  only  dilficulty  in  this  natural  view  of  the 
matter  comes  from  v.  10,  which  seems  to  say  tiiat  the  deed  was  sealed 
before  it  was  signed  by  the  witnesses.  Gicsebrecht,  who  has  well  treated 
the  (juestion  {D((s  Ihtch  Jeremiu,  p.  ITO  ff.),  .sugge.sts  .satisfactorily  that 
the  witnesses  signed  their  names  on  the  outside  of  the  sealed  copy  to 
avouch  the  fact  that  it  was  sealed  by  both  contracting  parties.  The  ojicn 
copy  was  to  be  used  for  ordinnry  reference,  and  the  one  that  was  .sealed 
could  be  appealed  to  in  cases  of  dispute.  Such  we  know  was  the  custom 
among  the  Habylonians,  among  whom  the  forms  of  business  proceduri'  in 
the  East  originated. 


ni. 

tiul 
the 

■d 
tfil 
lilt 

to 
tell 
Ifd 

>IU 

in 


Ch.  IX,  §  1227 


SURRENDER  ADVISED 


283 


sooner  was  the  deed  handed  over  for  safe  keeping  to  his 
secretary  IJaruch  than  the  audacity  of  the  performance 
suddenly  overwhelmed  and  disheartened  him.  It  is  such 
traits  as  these  that  bring  this  typically  human  prophet  so 
near  to  us!  Our  deepest  and  truest  intuitions  are  tliose 
which  surprise  and  awe  us  most  by  their  presumptuous  rasli- 
ness.  Their  worth  is  approved  to  our  trembling  faith  when 
we  have  turned  them  over  and  over  in  the  light  that  flows 
from  the  fountain  of  truth.  So  Jeremiah  appeals  to  Jehovah 
in  his  embarrassment.  "  Alas,  Lord  Jehovah !  tlie  earth 
works  have  been  brought  close  to  the  city  ^  to  take  it ;  and 
the  city  is  given  into  the  hand  of  the  Chaldreans,  and 
what  Thou  hast  spoken  has  come  to  pass,  and,  behold,  Thou 
seest  it!  And  Thou  hast  said  unto  me:  Buy  the  field 
for  money  and  call  witnesses,  Avhereas  the  city  has  been 
given  into  the  hand  of  the  Chaldteans  "  (xxxii.  16,  24,  25). 
To  this  appeal  an  answer  came  rehearsing  fully  the  pre- 
vious announcement  of  the  city's  doom  and  its  justiHcation 
(^xxxii.  28-35),  but  assuring  the  prophet  more  strongly 
than  ever  of  the  final  restoration  of  the  old  order  of  things 
in  civic  and  business  life  (vs.  30-44). 

§  1227.  As  the  impending  fall  of  the  city  drew  nearer 
and  nearer,  Jeremiah,  eager  to  save  the  lives  of  the  citi- 
zens, became  more  urgent  in  advising  a  general  surrender. 
His  plea  was  as  far  as  possible  from  being  a  seditious 
harangue,  and  was  indeed  a  common-sense  appeal  to  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation.  "  He  that  abideth  in  the  city 
shall  die,  and  he  that  goeth  out  to  the  Chaldioans  shall 
live  "  (xxxviii.  2).  But  as  this  sort  of  counsel  would  make 
an  end  of  all  disei[)line,  it  had  to  be  cheeked  and  punished. 
Hence  tlie  civil  and  military  leaders  demanded  that  Jere- 
miah be  put  to  death.  "  For  he  is  weakening  the  hands  of 
the  fighting  men  who  are  left  in  this  city,  and  the 
hands  of  all  the  people,  in  speaking  such  words  to  them "' 
(xxxviii.  4).     The  poor  king,  broken  in  heart  and  hope, 

1  The  point  of  this  special  consideration  may  be  learned  from  §  1230. 


!    ^W 


li- 


i': 


il^ 


284 


JEREMIAH   SAVED  FROM   DEATH 


Book  X 


m 


1  :m 


and  dreading  a  revolt  against  his  own  person,  yielded  to 
their  request,  with  the  deprecating  remark :  "  Behold,  he 
is  in  your  hand,  for  the  king  cannot  do  anything  against 
you."  When,  however,  they  had  gained  the  coveted 
opportunity,  they  hesitated.  The  fatal  deed  was  too 
great  a  crime.  What  seemed  at  first  a  military  necessity 
began  to  look  like  murder,  or  at  any  rate  like  saci'ilege 
against  a  prophet  of  Jehovah.  A  happy  thought  struck 
them.  They  would  not  slay  him  I  they  would  merely  let 
him  die !  In  the  courtyard,  in  the  quarter  assigned  to  the 
king's  son  Malchiah,  was  a  foul  empty  cistern.  Into  this 
Black  Hole  they  lowered  him ;  then  left  him  to  sink  and 
suffocate,  or  failing  that,  to  starve  to  death  (xxxviii,  5,  G). 
§  1228.  From  the  fate  thus  prepared  for  him  he  was 
delivered  through  the  good  offices  of  an  Ethiopian  ^  court- 
officer,  a  trusty  servant  of  the  king,  Ebed-melech  by  name. 
Taking  pity  on  Jeremiah,  he  resolved,  if  possible,  to  secure 
relief.  To  make  his  case  good,  he  appealed  to  the  king  on 
general  principles  of  equity,  and  therefore  approached  him, 
not  in  his  palace,  but  at  the  city  gate  of  Benjamin,  where, 
within  sound  of  the  siege  operations,  he  still  dispensed  the 
royal  justice.  Here  his  bewildered  mind,  freed  from  official 
intimidation,  could  right  itself  for  a  moment.  Perhaps  with 
the  hope  tliat  in  some  way  the  prophetic  function  might  yet 
bring  help  to  the  state,  he  asserted  his  kingly  authority, 
defied  the  princes,  and  gave  orders  for  the  release  of  Jere- 
miali.  At  his  command  Ebed-melech  with  a  sufficient 
guard  of  thirty  men  rescued  the  prophet  from  his  i)erilous 
durance.  The  prisoner  was  restored  to  the  court  of  the 
guard.  There  he  remained  till  the  day  when  Jerusalem 
wjis  taken  (xxxviii.  7-13,  28).    To  Ebed-melech  came  the 


1  It  Is  suggestive  of  the  immemorial  servitude  of  the  non-Semitic  Afri- 
cans tliat  Cushites  were  employed  as  body-servants  in  Israel  tiirough  all 
the  history  of  the  kingdom.  Compare  2  Sam.  xviii.  21  f.  and  Jer.  xxxvi. 
14.  The  latter  passage  tells  us  that  the  great-grandson  of  a  certain 
Cushite  in  Jerusalem  was  called  ".Tehudi"  (Judaite).  possibly  that  the 
prejudice  of  colour  might  be  disarmed  (cf.  Jer.  xiii.  23). 


Cii.  IX,  §  12.30 


THE   LAST   INTERVIEW 


286 


prophetic  word  that  because  of  his  faith  in  Jehovah  his 
life   .ould  be  spared  in  the  ruin  of  the  city  (xxxix.  15-18). 

§  1229.  The  nobles  respected  the  resolution  of  the  king, 
and  let  Jeremiah  alone.  Perhaps  they  had  not  so  much 
reason  to  fear  him  now.  They  liad  apparently  secured 
some  sort  of  a  pledge  from  Zedekiah  that  he  would  in>t 
follow  the  counsel  of  Jeremiah  and  leave  the  city  suddenly, 
to  make  terms  with  the  enemy  for  liimself  and  his  retinue. 
This  he  could  easily  do,  as  the  palace  commanded  the  gate 
of  the  king's  garden  (§  1231).  We  have  a  full  report  of 
the  last  recorded  interview  between  Zedekiah  and  Jere- 
miah. By  his  private  orders  the  king  had  Jeremiah  brought 
to  him  in  one  of  the  chambers  of  the  temi)le.  Here  lie 
begged  of  him  a  final  word  from  Jehovah.  Jeremiah  could 
do  notliing  but  repeat  his  well-worn  message  that  the  only 
safety  for  himself,  his  family,  and  the  city  lay  in  his  going 
out  to  the  Chaldteans  (xxxviii.  14-18).  Tlie  king,  afraid 
to  venture  against  his  council,  protested  that  he  dreaded 
the  mocking  of  those  who  had  already  deserted  to  the 
besiegers.  Jeremiah  urged  upon  him  the  prospect  of  the 
far  more  bitter  reproaches  of  his  own  household  who  would 
through  him  be  delivered  up  to  the  king  of  Babylon,  be- 
sides the  sure  fate  of  his  wives  and  children,  and  the  sack 
and  burning  of  the  city  (xxxviii.  19-23).  With  this  com- 
fortless assurance  the  king's  last  hope  was  gone.  He 
could  only  beg  from  Jeremiah  that  when  the  nobles  should 
inquire  of  him  what  he  had  said  to  the  king,  he  would 
reply  that  he  had  begged  of  him  not  to  let  him  go  back  to 
the  dungeon  in  the  house  of  Jonathan  the  scribe.  Zede- 
kiah's  fears  were  well  grounded.  The  inquiry  was  made 
and  the  answer  given  as  he  had  desired  (xxxviii.  21-27). 

§  1230.  Not  long  thereafter  came  the  end.  l^'aniine 
within  the  city,  with  its  heart-breaking  horrors  (Lam.  ii. 
20 ;  iv.  10),  pressed  the  defenders  sorely.  But  surer  and 
swifter  than  famine  itself  was  the  work  of  the  Chaldioans. 
A  year  and  a  half  had  passed  since  the  blockade  began. 
But  this  was  a  short  time  for  the  successful  siege  of  a 


m 


fii'^ 


',: 


'tl 


If 

m 

4 

1 

''      V 

THE   END  OF  THE   SIEGE 


Book  X 


1 

.J 

t ' 

I;   i; 

'!  i< 

great  fortress ;  and  the  period  of  active  hostilities  had 
been  shortened  by  the  inroad  of  the  Egyptians  (§  1218). 
In  an  important  siege  the  greater  portion  of  the  time  was 
occupied  with  the  erection  of  the  storming-wall  and  the 
other  preparations  for  direct  assault  upon  the  fortifications  ^ 
(cf.  §  1178).  When  the  city  wall  was  high  and  strong,  it 
was  useless  to  attempt  to  undermine  it.  It  must  be  attacked 
not  far  from  the  summit.  It  was  from  the  earthworks 
erected  for  this  purpose  (Jer.  xxxii.  24)  that  the  battering- 
rams  and  storming-towers  were  brought  to  play  upon  the 
wall.  Hence  enormous  labour  was  necessary  before  a  suit- 
able base  of  operations  could  be  secured  upon  the  sloping 
approaches  to  the  city.  When  aggressive  action  was  fairly 
begun,  unless  the  besieged  were  numerous  and  skilful  enough 
to  disable  the  besiegers  by  arrows  or  other  deadly  weapons, 
only  the  very  strongest  walls  could  long  endure  the  constant 
battering,  followed  by  the  pickaxes,  crowbars,  and  wall- 
hooks  by  which  the  stones  were  dislocated  and  removed. 
Moreover,  a  force  of  defenders,  weakened  or  diminished  by 
famine,  could  not  long  withstand  a  constant  shower  of 
missiles  from  the  siege-towers.  So  we  are  told  of  Jerusalem 
that  on  the  ninth  day  of  the  fourth  month  of  Zedekiah's 
eleventh  year  (July,  586  B.C.)  a  breach  was  made  in  the 
city  wall  (Jer.  xxxix.  2;  lii.  6ff. ;  cf.  2  K.  xxv.  3  f.).^ 

1  It  is  from  the  sculptures  of  the  Assyrian  kings  that  we  get  our  chief 
information  as  to  tlie  metliods  of  sieges  in  the  ancient  East,  and  the 
explanation  of  such  terms  as  are  used  in  Ez.  xxvi.  7  ff.  (where  "  buckler," 
in  EV\,  should  be  replaced  by  mantelet  or  testudo,  and  "  axes  "  by  wall- 
hooks  or  fakes).  The  Assyrians  ftrst  made  of  besieging  an  art  and 
science  which  were  not  essentially  changed  tilt  the  general  introduction 
of  explosives.  Illustrations  are  given  in  Nowack,  HA.  I.  'Ml  ff.,  and  in 
BA.  III.  178  ff,  Cf.  the  lifelike  description  of  the  siege  and  defence  of  a 
small  fortress  of  the  fifteenth  century  A.n.  in  Reade's  The  Cloister  and  the 
JL'di'th.  chs.  xlii.  and  xliii. 

■2  Tiie  entrance  was  forced  on  the  north  of  the  city.  We  are  not  to 
imderstand  that  one  of  the  great  gates  was  broken  in.  The  gates  were 
virtually  impregnable  against  ancient  modes  of  attack,  being  made  of  the 
toughest  wood,  overlaid  with  copper  or  iron,  and  being  shut  and  securely 
barred  when  the  siege  was  closely  pressed. 


! 


i 


Ch.  IX,  §  1232 


CAPTURE   OF  THE   CITY 


287 


§  1231.  When  an  opening  had  been  forced  in  the  city 
wall,  it  was  resolved  to  make  the  entrance  by  night,  so 
that  escape  might  not  be  easy  to  any  of  the  people. 
Among  the  Chaldteans  were  many  Judaite  fugitives  who 
would  act  as  guides.  The  city  was  not  given  over  at  once 
to  pillage  and  devastation.  This  was  rightly  considered 
folly  by  the  business  like  Assyrians  and  their  successors. 
Important  points  were  seized,  and  when  all  was  securely 
held,  a  council  of  the  leaders  decided  in  detail  the  fate 
of  the  place  and  people.  Accordingly  the  Chaldtuan 
king's  chief  officers  in  Palestine,  who  had  been  summoned 
in  view  of  the  impending  capture,  were  among  the  incom- 
ing troops  (cf.  Jer.  xxxix.  3).  The  lower  or  newer  sec- 
tion of  the  city  in  the  north  was  abandoned  by  the  besieged 
as  soon  as  they  saw  that  all  was  lost ;  and  the  Chaldicans 
advanced  to  the  Middle  Gate  in  the  inner  or  older  wall  that 
separated  the  lower  from  the  main  city.  Here  no  defence 
was  in  any  case  possible,  but  already,  as  soon  as  the  enemy 
had  been  descried,  Zedekiah  and  his  party,  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  darkness,  escaped  by  the  way  of  the  gate  of  the 
King's  Garden,  in  the  southeast  of  the  cit}-,  at  the  entrance 
to  the  Fuller's  Field,  at  the  point  where  the  eastern  inner 
and  outer  walls  came  together.  The  Chaldicans  were 
surprised ;  for  it  was  thought  that  a  sufficient  guard  had 
been  set  at  all  the  possible  places  of  exit.  The  discovery 
of  the  flight  was  not  made  till  the  king  and  his  troops 
were  missed  by  the  searchers,  liy  this  time  the  fugitives 
of  the  royal  party  were  well  on  their  way  up  the  Arabah. 
They  were  overtaken  near  Jericho,  and  brought  before 
Nebuchadrezzar  in  Riblah  for  judgment  (Jer.  xxxix.  4,  5 ; 
lii.  7-9  ;  cf.  2  K.  xxv.  4-G). 

§  1232.  The  occupation  of  the  city  was  conducted  under 
strict  discipline  and  witliout  rapine.^  The  Chaldiean  commis- 


•  hi 


>1 


til 


1  A  word  or  two  upon  this  point  are  needed.  It  is  inipossiblo  to  deter- 
mine exactly  what  was  done  or  not  done  by  the  CiialdiJean  army  of  occu- 
pation, because  there  is  no  official  report  of  the  takini;  of  the  city.  We 
can,  however,  infer  a  great  deal  from  what  we  know  of  the  procedure  of 


:,i 


rw 


f 


288 


DETAILS  OF  THE  OCCUPATION 


Book  X 


II;: 


1 

f"; 

i 

\ 

; 

f 

i 

\  . 

J 

1  ■ 

\i 

\ 

sion  made  up  its  report  with  customary  thoroughness,  and  it 
was  a  full  month  before  the  chief  executive  otHcer,  Nebu- 
zaradan  {Nabuzeruldin,  "  Nebo  has  given  progeny  ")  entered 
to  dispose  linally  of  life  and  property  in  the  name  of  the 
Great  King  (Jer.  lii.  12;  cf.  2  K.  xxv.  8).  Cases  calling 
for  capital  punishment  were  remitted  to  Nebuchadrezzar 
(§  1235).  As  to  the  city  itself  the  princii)les  wei'e  kept  in 
view  that  had  been  followed  by  the  sanest  of  the  Assyrian 
kings  in  their  treatment  of  Palestine:  only  so  much 
destruction  was  wrought  as  would  make  the  repetition  of 
disorder  impossible. 

§  1233.  (1)  For  this  end  the  effacement  of  the  na- 
tional worship  was  essential.  The  temple  was  therefore 
destroyed  by  fire  —  a  catastrophe  which  subverted  at  a 
single  blow  the  traditions,  the  symbols,  and  the  ajipliances 
alike  of  the  religion  of  Jehovah  and  of  the  usurping  cults 
that  had  roused  the  wrath  of  reformers  and  prophets. 
(2)  Before  this  or  any  other  house  in  Jerusalem  was  set  on 
fire,  care  was  taken  to  remove  all  valuable  property.     The 


conquerors  under  this  regime,  which  was  essentially  a  mitigated  imitation 
of  tlie  Assyrian.  We  may  observe  :  (1)  The  army  was  a  great  machine, 
operated  with  a  single  purpose,  —  the  carrying  out  of  the  imperial  policy. 
Tiie  officers  were  civil  as  well  as  military  functionaries,  and  their  troops 
obeyed  orders  with  mechanical  precision,  ("i;  L'nder  the  Assyrian  sys- 
tem as  developed  by  Tiglathi)ileser  III,  the  object  of  war  was  not  the 
destruction  of  enemies,  but  the  utilization  of  their  country  and  resources 
for  the  service  of  the  great  gods  and  their  vicegerent  the  Great  King. 
Hence,  as  a  rule,  deportation,  or  the  enslavement  of  prisoners,  took  the 
place  of  slaughter.  (:l)  The  minute  details  of  the  disposal  of  conquered 
cities,  given  by  the  later  Assyrian  kings,  —  the  ringleaders  slain,  the  rest 
of  the  people  spared,  so  many  men,  women,  and  children  carried  away 
captive,  so  much  spoil  of  various  kinds  confiscated,  —  imply  a  careful 
inventory  of  the  contents  of  the  city  and  their  conservation  under  the 
eye  of  responsible  officials.  Hence  the  mention  of  these  officers  in  con- 
nection with  the  entrance  of  the  troops  into  Jerusalem  in  Jer.  xxxix.  3, 
—  a  passage  added  to  the  original  account,  but  not  a  mere  idle  interpola- 
tion. (4)  Women  and  children  had  a  value  as  merchandise  or  as 
servants,  and  they  were  carefully  spared.  But  the  infliction  of  the  death 
penalty  was  an  execution,  and  as  such  was  a  matter  of  formal  record. 
2  Chr.  xxxvi.  17  is  a  rhetorical  embeliishmeut.  ''The  king"  did  not 
enter  the  city  at  all. 


Ch.  IX,  §  12:53 


FATE   OF  THE   CITY 


380 


he 
led 

St 

■ay 


ila- 
as 
ith 
rd. 
lot 


smaller  utensils  of  the  temple  could  be  transported  intact. 
But  the  larger  articles  of  copper  or  bronze  were  bioken 
up  and  carried  away  to  Babylonian  foundries  —  a  per- 
formance which  must  have  impressed  the  vulgar  mind  .as 
a  signal  triumph  for  IJel  and  Nebo,  and  which  to  the  new 
administration  served  as  a  partial  compensation  for  the 
loss  of  tribute  and  for  the  "sacrifices"  maCle  by  Babylon 
during  the  war,  if  one  may  apply  here  the  cant  of  modern 
imperialistic  warfare.  (3)  The  city  wall  was  broken 
down.  In  this  the  lord  of  Nemitti-Bel  and  of  Imgur-liel 
(§  1058)  would  see  the  predominance  of  his  gods.  The 
temple  and  the  wall  were  the  two  essentials  of  an  ancient 
city,  and  both  were  of  deep  religious  import.  In  the  one 
the  deity  revealed  his  grace ;  the  other,  with  its  gates  and 
fortresses  and  battlements,  was  the  seat  of  his  power  and 
the  symbol  of  his  rule.^  (4)  Every  dwelling  in  the  city 
was  not  destroyed.  But  every  "  great  liouse  "  was  put  to 
the  flames.  Thus  were  obliterated  all  the  monuments  of 
civic  or  personal  pride,  and  all  that  gave  value  and  desir- 
ableness to  a  residence  in  Jerusalem,  whose  future  inhab- 
itants might  house  themselves  with  fugitives  and  outlaws 
among  men  or  beasts.     Thus  the  Great   King's  officers  ^ 

1  See  e.g.  Ps.  xlviil.  12  ff.  ■  Isa.  xxvi.  1,  xlix.  10,  liv.  11  f. ;  2  K.  iii.  27  ; 
Neh.  xii.  27,  30  ;  Uev.  xxi.  12  ff. 

2  A  list  of  these  connnissioners  is  given  in  the  additions  to  Jer.  xxxix. 
(v.  3  ;  cf.  13).  It  has  been  copied  from  some  Babylonian  record  (luito 
imperfectly,  the  compiler  not  understanding  the  titles  nor  distinguishing 
them  from  proper  names.  Hence  we  are  not  qulU'.  certain  how  many 
there  really  were.  "  Nergalsharczer ''  is  here  accidentally  repealed. 
It  was  a  common  name  among  Babylonian  nobles  {\('r(jal-sar-nsiir, 
"Nergal,  protect  the  king,"  cf.  §  744).  He  was  probably  Nerlglissar, 
the  son-in-law  of  Nebucliadrezzar,  who  became  his  second  successor 
(§1370).  "  Samgar-Nebo  "  (properly  »S'»mf/(>-.Va/*«,  "Nebo,  show  kind- 
ness'') is  the  only  other  one  of  v.  3  who  appears  to  be  mentioned  by  his 
personal  name,  and  possibly  "Sarsechim."  meaning  '-prince  of  the  cap- 
tains," is  merely  his  title.  "T^abaaris"  is  the  designation  of  an  office  — 
"chief  of  the  head.s,"  i.p.  of  the  heads  of  the  army  (cf.  2  K.  xviii.  17). 
Perhaps  "  Neboshazban  "  (Xnhnsezihnnni,  "Nebo,  save  me!"  v.  13)  is 
the  Rabsaris  here  meant.  "Kab-mag"  has  usually  been  explained  as 
"  chief  of  the  Magi."    But  the  stem  of  ndyoi  is  maguS  (Behistun  Inscrip- 


!t 


Fi 


290 


CLASSES   OF  CAPTIVES 


Book  X 


Ui:'i 


fulfilled  their  task  (2  K.  xxv.  9-10,  13-17,  cf.  Jer.  lii. 
13,  14,  17-24 ;  xxxix.  8). 

§  1234.  The  chief  sufferers  in  the  city  were  the  wealthy 
and  influential,  and  those  who  had  taken  a  leading  part 
in  the  revolt.  The  prime  movers  in  sedition  were  rele- 
gated to  Nebuchadrezzar's  judgment-seat  (§  1235).  The 
poorest  of  the  people,  with  a  few  leading  men  as  over- 
seers, were  left  in  the  country  (§  1240  ff.).  But  the 
people  of  any  importance  were  taken  away  to  Babylo- 
nia. As  to  the  numbers  of  the  latter  wo  have  remark- 
able statements  in  Jer.  lii.  28-30,  to  which  little  credence 
has  usually  been  given,  because  of  the  sniallness  of  the 
sum  of  the  captives.  The  writer  makes  out  three  dis- 
tinct de])ortations.  The  first,  in  the  seventh  year  of 
Nebuchadrezzar,  consisted  of  3023  persons.  The  second, 
in  the  eighteenth  year  of  the  king,  comprised  but  832; 
while  in  the  third  (§  12G8),  in  the  twenty-third  year,  745 
were  carried  away.  The  total  thus  made  u[)  4G00.  The 
writer  draws  from  a  liabylonian  source  distinct  from  those 
used  in  2  Kings,  and  a  sober  view  of  the  situation  will  show 
that  his  information  is  reliable  and  evidently  refers  only 
to  people  whose  names  wei'e  recorded.  Of  these  there 
would  be  much  fewer  in  580  than  in  597.  To  Zedekiah 
had  been  left  but  a  remnant  of  the  freeholders  (§  1152), 
and  the  kingdom  never  became  what  it  was  under  his 
predecessor.^ 

tioii),  not  mag.^  Moreover,  tlie  Babylonians  had  as  yet  nothing  to  do 
with  the  "Magi."  For  anotlier  explanation  of  the  still  obscure  name 
llah-mag  see  KAT.  p.  420. 

1  The  question  of  the  relative  numbers  of  the  several  deportations  has 
been  a  subject  of  controversy,  as  well  as  the  more  fundamental  question 
as  to  how  many  deportations  there  really  were  and  when  they  severally 
took  place.  To  settle  the  meaning  of  Jer.  lii.  28-30,  Ewald  conjectures, 
followed  by  Graf,  Keil,  Orelli,  and  Gie.sebrecht,  that  "seventh"  is  a 
copyist's  error  for  seventeenth,  on  the  supposition  that  this  was  a  depor- 
tation of  people  of  the  land  during  the  first  period  of  the  siege  (n.o.  f)87). 
This  is  improbable.  (1)  The  year  named  coincides  with  the  deportation 
of  Jeholachin.  (2)  The  principal  deportation  occurring  in  this  seventh 
year  would  not  be  made  till  after  Jerusalem  was  taken.    The  obvious 


T" 


^ 


all 
his 


do 
lainc 


IS  a 


cii.  IX,  §  i2no 


FATE  OF  THE   LEADERS 


201 


§  1235.  Fow  words  are  needed  to  tell  the  fate  of  the 
leaders  of  the  revolt.  Besides  the  king's  party  taken  near 
Jerieho,  those  adjudged  guilty  by  Nebuzaradan  and  his  coun- 
cil were  brought  before  Nebuchadrezzar  at  Iliblah.  .\gainst 
them  the  rigorous  code  of  the  law  of  rebellion  was  strictly 
enforced.  These  were  the  chief  priest  and  his  deputy, 
three  keepers  of  the  temple,  five  (or  seven)  of  the  king's 
courtiers  left  in  the  city,  tiie  conunander  of  the  garrison 
and  the  seci'etary  of  the  army,  besides  sixt}'  men  of  undis- 
tinguished name  (2  K.  xxv.  18  f;  cf.  Jer.  Hi.  24  f.).  Tiiese 
were  put  to  death,  probably  by  beheading,  along  with  the 
sons  of  Zedekiah.  The  hapless  king  seems  to  have  been 
the  only  subject  of  torture.  After  witnessing  the  death  of 
his  sons,  his  eyes  were  put  out  and  he  was  carried  lo  Haby- 
lon,  not  so  much  to  adorn  the  victor's  triumph  as  to  be  a 
warning  to  all  who  might  be  tempted  to  rebel  against  the 
king  of  kings  (cf.  §  1052). 

§  1230.  Such  was  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  and  such  were  its 
concomitants.  Events  like  these  could  not  pass  without  leav- 

iiH'iuiiiig  of  the  st.atemt'nts  in  Jer.  Hi,  has  been  discredited  because 
it  seems  so  improbable  that  the  deportation  of  51)7  could  be  larger 
than  that  of  58().  Meyer  (Entxtchntuj  dcs  Jiiilnithumx,  180(5,  p.  ll'i  f.) 
gives  the  weight  of  his  great  name  to  the  hypothesis  that  in  58(i  the 
greater  number  went  into  exile.  IJy  him,  as  by  the  others,  it  is  not  per- 
ceived that  only  those  would  be  numbered  who  were  independent  persons. 
Slaves,  as  well  as  wimien  and  children,  would  not  bi;  recorded.  Of  these, 
a  much  smaller  proportion  were  carried  away  in  507  than  in  58(i.  since 
on  the  former  occasion  it  was  made  a  matter  of  jmlicy  to  remove  the  most 
influential  citizens,  according  to  the  express  statement  of  2  K.  xxiv.  14  ff. 
When  the  writer  in  2  Kings  m.akes  out  "  ten  thousand  "  as  the  number  of 
captives  in  597,  he  is  vising  a  round  number  (the  looser  reckoning  in  v.  10 
being  from  another  source)  and  reckons  in,  besides,  the  women,  children, 
and  slaves.  In  the  lists  of  Neh.  vii.  (cf.  Ezra  ii.)  the  slaves  are  bunched 
together  separately  and  without  mention  of  the  households  (§  40.'))  to 
which  they  belonged.  As  to  Jer.  lii.,  Stade  (ZATW.  IV,  271  ff.)  and 
Meyer  favour  an  improbable  hypothesis,  that  "  the  first  number  given 
refers  to  a  deportation  made  in  598  from  the  country  towns  before  the 
taking  of  Jcnvsalem ;  the  second  enumerates  the  runaways  during  the 
siege  and  before  the  fall  of  the  city,  that  is,  in  587  ;  and  the  third, 
perhaps  a  supplementary  deportation,  in  582"  (Meyer,  I.e.),  For  the 
third  deportation  see  §  1250. 


I 
(I 


^    I 


!^ 


M 
If 


w 


202 


THE   LAMENTATIONS 


Book  X 


1i 


iijg  their  mark  on  the  Hebrew  literature.  In  one  sense,  and  a 
very  iniportant  one,  they  were  the  cause  of  this  literature. 
For  the  passions  and  sentiments  that  gave  life  and  colour 
to  what  was  strongest  and  most  vital  in  Hebrew  thctught 
and  s[)ee(;h  centred  in  the  fate  of  Jerusalem,  even  before 
the  Chalditan  era  (Micah  iii.  12).  liut  it  was  what  this 
catastrophe  involved  that  made  the  doom  of  Isiael:  the 
loss  of  the  temple,  the  i)ains  and  disabilities  of  exile,  the 
hiding  of  Jehovah's  face  from  his  outlawed  people. 
Tiie  calamity  itself  has  but  a  mejigre  and  defective  record. 
The  Hebrew  mind  lent  itself  but  little  to  descri[)tion  or 
exact  narration.  The  event  wivs  greater  than  the  fact,  and 
the  mor.al  significance  of  the  eveni  greater  than  either. 
Even  the  imaginative  narrative  of  the  epic  is  wanting; 
while  Troy  has  had  its  Iliad  the  greater  woes  of  Jerusalem 
have  been  sung  only  in  dirges. 

§  1237.  Yet  these  dirges,  or  "Lamentations,"  are  the 
best  known  of  ancient  elegiac  poems ;  and,  strangely 
enough,  the  popular  estimate  of  their  reputed  author  has 
been  based  upon  them  rather  than  upon  his  actual  works. 
For  Jeremiah  did  not  write  the  Lamentations.  The  notion 
that  he  was  their  author  is  the  offspring  of  an  age  which 
believed  that  any  biblical  writer  could  have  composed 
any  or  all  of  the  sacred  books,  and  that  only  those  men 
who  are  named  in  the  Bible  could  have  been  concerned 
in  its  composition.  Man}'  reasons  may  be  urged  against 
the  traditional  view,  which  was  started  by  the  Septuagint 
translation,  misled  by  an  ambiguous  suggestion  of  2  Chr. 
XXXV.  25.  Jeremiah,  though  he  has  been  a  great  force  in 
literature,  was  himself  no  literary  artist.  But  the  Lamen- 
tations reveal  more  conscious  structural  elaboration  than 
any  other  book  of  the  Bible.  Again,  these  dirges  do  not 
indicate  Jeremiah's  essential  temper  or  his  prevailing 
mood  ;  for  though  a  man  of  sorrows,  he  was  also  a  man  of 
action.  When  once  his  outbursts  of  grief  were  over,  he 
was  forming  plans  for  the  future  and  cherishing  hopes. 
The  writer  of  Lamentations  is  absorbed  in  his  despair. 


■^" 


Cii.  IX,  §  1238         TIIEIU  ORIGIN   AM)   VALUK 


21KI 


ing 


air. 


Hu  sees  no  lifting  of  the  cloud,  llis  thoughts  dwell  in 
the  past.  His  words  show  notliing  of  tiie  original  fore- 
sight and  insight  of  the  great  i)ro[)het.  Moreover,  Jere- 
miah had  no  time  or  opportunity  after  the  capture  of 
the  city  for  laborious  composition,  which  must  have 
recpiired  the  leisure  of  the  student  as  well  as  the  practised 
hand  of  tiie  poet.*  Such  a  series  of  poems  would  seem 
to  liave  been  produced  some  years  after  the  calamity 
which  they  dei)ict,  as  the  result  of  reflection  and  amid  a 
circle  of  meditative  devotees.  The  place  of  composition 
was  most  probably  Babylonia.'* 

§  1238.  The  chief  value  of  these  unique  elegies  is 
that  they  give  us  a  picture  of  the  destruction  and  desola- 
tion of  Jerusalem,  not  as  foreseen  or  dreaded,  but  as  accom- 
plished facts.  They  are  of  course  not  descriptions.  There 
is  in  them  no  single  complete  picture  or  representation. 
They  are  a  stream  of  ejaculatory  reflections,  whose  note 
is  that  of  breaking  waves  rather  than  that  of  a  running 
brook.  Yet  the  total  conception  of  the  subject  which  we 
gain  from  them  is  fairly  complete,  because  every  one  of  the 
poems  touches  upon  all  the  phases  of  the  great  catastrophe. 

1  Poetry  may  be  composed  rapidly,  but  not  the  poetry  of  the  De. 
Conteviptu  JIundi  of  Bernard  of  Cliigny  nor  the  poetry  of  the  Lamen- 
tations. It  wius  supposed  that  Bernard  mastered  his  metre  by  special 
inspiration,  so  difficult  was  it  with  its  triple  rhymes,  following  the  three- 
fold division  of  the  hexameter.  Any  careful  student  of  the  oriijinal  ot 
the  Lamentations  will  acknowledge  the  skill  and  patience  of  their  autijor, 
witli  his  dexterous  management  of  the  so-called  Kina  metre,  the  sym- 
metrical structure  of  his  strophes,  and  the  laborious  adaptation  of  the 
letters  of  the  alphabet  to  form  a  comiilete  acrostic.  Ingenious  rhyming 
was  a  favourite  occupation  of  the  scribes  of  Clugny,  tmd  the  writers  that 
moulded  the  Lamentations  were  of  a  kindred  school. 

2  For  the  treatment  of  special  questions,  the  reiider  is  referred  to 
Cheyne,  in  the  Pulpit  Commentary  (cf.  Jercminh,  his  Life  and  Times, 
1888.  p.  177  ff.) ;  Driver,  Intrfi,  p.  456  ff.  ;  art.  "  Lamentations."  in  Ennjcl. 
Brit.  (W.  R,  Smith);  Loiir,  Die  Klagelieder  des  Jeremin  (in  Nowack's 
»'  Ilandkommentar  "),  189;].  It  is  not  quite  certain  whether  all  of  these 
poems  come  from  the  same  author.  Chap,  lii.,  at  least,  which  differs 
most  from  the  others,  is  possibly  later.  This  question  is  not  of  great 
practical  importance,  as  the  theme  and  contents  of  all  are  so  uniform. 


■Mf 


in. 


i!  ;i 


294 


AN  ELEGY  OF  SORROWS 


Book  X 


If  we  do  not  seek  for  the  actual  facts  of  history,  but  for 
historical  situations,  we  shall  be  amply  rewarded  for  our 
search.  There  are  mainly  three  sets  of  circumstances 
exhibited,  —  the  condition  of  the  city,  of  the  temple,  and 
of  the  survivors  of  the  siege.  The  sufferings  of  tlie 
besieged  by  famine  are  made  especially  prominent  (i.  11, 
19;  ii.  llf.,  19f. ;  iv.  3-9).  Less  is  said  of  the  horrors 
that  accompanied  tlie  capture  of  the  city  (ii.  12,  20  f.; 
v.  11),  which  are  to  be  judged  of  in  the  light  of  the  restric- 
tions set  forth  above  (§  1232).  The  desolation  of  the 
city,  and  above  all  the  ruin  and  profanation  of  the  sanc- 
tuary, with  t!ie  abolition  of  the  temple  services  (i.  4;  ii. 
6  f.;  iv.  1 ;  cf.  ii.  9),  are  a  burden  of  shame  and  humilia- 
tion to  the  followers  of  Jehovah,  The  poet  is  compelled 
to  believe  that  Jehovah  himself  is  the  author  of  the  ca- 
lamity, owning  with  consternation  (i.  12  ff. ;  iv.  11  ff.),  or 
with  submission  and  penitence  (ch.  iii.),  that  all  this  evil 
has  come  as  a  punishment  for  the  sins  of  the  prophets, 
priests,  and  people.  Most  instructive  is  it  to  note  that 
the  author  himself  takes  the  place  of  the  suffering  people 
and  the  ruined  city  (i.  11-22;  ch.  iii.).  This  representa- 
tive conception,  especially  in  ch.  iii.,  is  a  development  of 
Jeremiah's  intercessor}'  pleadings  (§  1127),  and  is  a  sure 
mark  of  the  progress  of  prophetic  teaching.^ 

§  1239.  The  Book  of  Lamentations  is  really  a  group  of 
psalms,  and  these  elegies  would  probably  have  found  a  place 
in  the  Psalter,  the  repository  of  the  anonymous  lyrical  poetry 
of  Israel,  were  it  not  that  one  topic  is  so  elaborately  and  va- 
riously treated  in  them,  and  that  they  became  associated 
with  the  name  of  Jeremiah  at  a  very  early  date.  Are  there 
any  other  literary  memorials  of  the  great  calamity  ?  Two 
of  the  psalms  of  our  present  collection  have  been  by  some 


1  Namely,  as  contrasted  with  the  position  assumed  by  the  poets  and 
prophets  of  the  preexilic  times.  They  spoke  as  members  of  a  suffering 
community,  not  as  tliemselves  bearing  affliction  on  its  behalf.  Here  we 
have  again  a  criterion  of  the  relative  ages  of  important  sections  of  the 
Hebrew  literature,  especially  of  the  Psalms  (cf.  §  5!)9,  (iOo). 


Ch.  IX,  §  1239 


OTHER   MEMORIALS 


205 


ascribed  to  this  occasion,  —  Ps.  Ixxiv.  and,  with  more  confi- 
dence, Ps.  Ixxix.  The  latter,  indeed,  is  ahnost  a  formal  r^- 
%umS  of  the  contents  of  the  Lamentations.  This  fact  does 
not  exclude  a  connection  with  the  Maccaboean  era,  to  which 
Ps.  Ixxiv.  really  belongs.  It  may  still,  however,  be  used 
for  the  illustration  of  the  supreme  calamity,  and  it  shows 
liow  the  language  of  these  mourners  for  Zion  has  become 
forever  the  classical  idiom  of  patriots  and  exiles,  giving 
articulate  expression  to  their  deepest  grief  and  yearning : 
"  If  I  forget  thee,  O  Jerusalem.  ..."  "  Behold  and  see 
if  there  is  any  sorrow  like  unto  ray  sorrow  1 " 


lit    i 


WJf 


i;  1 

i                    1 

M 

CHAPTER  X 


THE   REMNANT   IN   PALESTINE   AND   EGYPT 


Jti 


§  1240.  The  fate  of  the  survivors  in  Palestine  has  now 
to  be  recounted.  The  story  is  one  of  the  most  melan- 
choly in  the  records  of  Israel.  For  the  few  leaders  who 
remained  the  situation  was  almost  desperate.  The 
chances  were  all  against  rehabilitation.  Deprived  of  the 
walled  city  and  the  temple,  and  of  political  autonomy, 
even  a  multitude  of  Hebrews  in  Palestine  would  have 
counted  for  little.  Shorn  of  such  advantages  an  Oriental 
community  quickly  dissolves,  loses  its  name,  and  is  ab- 
sorbed in  other  tribes  or  peoples.  Such  a  fate  befell  most 
of  those  who  were  left  behind  by  Nebuzaradan  (§  1234). 
It  was  of  little  avail  that  measui-es  were  taken  by  the 
Babylonian  government  to  give  them  a  chance  of  self- 
support,  that  the  estates  of  the  disinherited  exiles  nob 
ruined  by  the  fire  were  given  to  the  landless  sur- 
vivors of  the  siege.  The  spiritless  occupants  of  the  soil, 
without  a  strong  city  of  refuge  or  a  protecting  Babylonian 
force,  made  but  a  feeble  resistance  to  the  Philistines, 
Edomites,^  Moabites,  and  Ammonites  who  witnessed  with 
malicious   satisfaction  the   destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and 

1  That  the  Echtmites  especially  exulti'd  over  the  fall  of  .reru.saleiu  (cf. 
Ps.  cxxxvii.  7;  Lain.  iv.  2'2  ;  Ez.  xxxv.  5  ff. ;  <>b.  10  ff.)  has  its  explanation 
in  the  long  and  bitter  struggles  between  that  people  and  Jndah.  Tho 
frequent  seizure  of  the  Edoinitic  territory  by  the  .ludaites  now  brought 
a  terrible  reprisal.  Somewhat  different  was  the  gratification  of  Tyre  at 
the  downfall  of  Judah  as  that  of  a  commercial  rival  (Ez.  xxvi.  Iff.). 

2U6 


,1' . 


^•^mmm^. 


■  m 


Cii.  X,  §  1242 


A  NEGLECTED  PROVINCE 


297 


Ith 

ncl 


thereafter  prowled  through  the  neighbourhood  iu  quest 
of  booty.  Over  this  remnant  a  native  governor  was 
appointed,  Gedaliah,  son  of  that  Ahikam  who  had  been 
the  patron  of  Jeremiah,  and  presumably  an  opponent  of 
the  ill-fated  revolt.  It  was  .at  Mizpah,  not  far  to  the 
north  of  Jerusalem,  that  his  headquarters  were  fixed. 

§  1241.  But  why  should  not  the  Chaldteans  have 
protected  the  remnant  of  Judah  ?  Gedaliah  was  governor 
under  the  king  of  Babylon,  and  Judah  was  now  a  Baby- 
lonian province.  There  were  several  reasons  why  Nebu- 
chadrezzar decided  to  take  as  little  trouble  as  possible 
with  Judah  from  this  time  forward.  He  had  no  senti- 
mental interest  in  Judah  any  more  than  in  Samaria, 
Damascus,  or  Tyre.  Indeed,  to  him,  as  to  the  rest  of  the 
world  (cf.  §  40),  Judah  meant  practically  the  city  of 
Jerusalem,  and  that  city  he  had  just  levelled  to  the 
ground.  Even  if  he  were  to  restore  it  so  as  to  re-create 
the  nation,  it  would  probably  be  again  a  centre  of  intrigue 
and  disaffection.  Judah  had  acquired  that  reputation  for 
independence  and  turbulence  which  was  afterwaids  used 
to  its  disadvantage  by  envious  rivals  (Ezra  iv.  12  ff.). 
Moreover,  political  and  military  conditions  had  changed  in 
the  Westland.  There  important  states  had  once  played 
their  part ;  but  now  they  were  obliterated  or  prostrate,  and 
what  the  Great  King  cared  most  for  was  the  possession  of 
Tyre  for  commerce,  and  the  command  of  the  Philistine 
coast-road  for  defence  or  offence  against  Egj^pt.  Hence, 
while  making  the  province  responsible  for  order  and  obe- 
dience, a  native  Judaite  was  appointed  governor,  and  not 
a  Babylonian  officer,  and  the  army  of  occupation  was  with- 
drawn. 

§  1242.  Gedaliah  set  to  work  loyally  and  bravely  to 
fulfil  his  double  trust  to  his  country  and  to  the  Clialdican. 
His  first  care  was  to  gather  about  him  the  true  men  who 
were  left.  Prominent  among  these  were  Jeremiah  and 
Baruch.  It  would  appear  that  Jeremiah  at  first  preferred 
to  share  the  fate  of  the  exiles ;  for  according  to  the  more 


§ 


i ' 


r 
"  1 


TTFt 


h,    :;: 


'■             i 

1;     '^ 

11.     ;■■ 

|yJ 

298 


JEllEMIAH  REMAINS  IN  JUDAH 


Book  X 


probable  of  the  two  reports  left  to  us  ^  he  was  among  the 
captives  at  Ramah,  live  miles  to  the  north  of  Jerusalem, 
and  on  the  way  to  Babylonia,  when  a  proposal,  which  had 
the  force  of  an  appeal,  was  made  to  him  that  he  attach 
himself  to  the  settlement  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood 
at  Mizpah  (Jer.  xl.  1-6).  In  this  generous  offer  Nebu- 
zaradan  was  doubtless  influenced  by  Gedaliah  himself,  who 
had  regretted  the  loss  of  Jeremiah  from  his  counsels  and 
who  saw  in  him  the  right  religious  head  of  the  struggling 
community.  Here  apparently  a  final  opportunity  to  return 
was   given   to   those  who  voluntarily  accompanied    their 

1  It  is  a  matter  of  uncommon  difficulty  to  ascertain  exactly  what  became 
of  Jeremiah  between  the  fall  of  the  city  and  his  settlement  in  Mizpah. 
There  is  an  absolute  contradiction  between  the  statements  of  Jer.  xxxix. 
11-14  and  xl.  1  ft.  Tiie  divergence  is  lessened  if  we  drop  xxxix.  11-13 
with  the  Sept.,  which  in  fact  leaves  out  the  whole  passage  vs.  4-1.3.  It 
then  remains  for  us  to  combine  and  reconcile  xxxix.  14  with  xl.  1.  If 
Jeremiah  had  been  handed  over  to  Gedaliah  to  be  cared  for,  how  could 
he  have  been  found  later  among  the  captives  at  the  halting-place  Ramah? 
Among  the  solutions  so  far  proposed,  the  best  seems  to  be  that  of  Giese- 
brecht  {Dns  Buck  Jeremia,  p.  213),  who  remarks  that  Nebuzaradan,  on 
his  arrival,  superseded  the  princes  named  in  xxxix.  3,  and  that  the  same 
event  led  to  the  transfer  of  Gedaliah  from  Jerusalem  to  Mizpah.  lie  sup- 
poses tiien  that  Jerc  'ah,  wlio  was  unknown  to  Nebuzaradan,  was  by  him 
assigned  to  the  ranks  of  the  deported,  but  that  when  the  train  of  exiles 
halted  at  Hamah,  Gedaliah  put  in  a  successful  claim  for  his  release.  'I"he 
main  objection  to  this  hypothesis  is  that  it  is  inconceivable  that  Jeremiah's 
career  should  have  remained  unknown  to  Nebuzaradan,  who  acted  on  the 
report  of  the  "  princes,"  and  who  nmst  also  have  conferred  with  Gedaliah. 
Jeremiah,  as  a  virtual  partisan  of  the  ChaUL-eans  and  one  of  the  most 
iiirtuential  of  the  citizens,  was,  from  the  beginning  of  the  judicial  inquiry, 
persona  grata  to  the  conquerors.  This  and  every  kindred  theory  assiunts 
that  Jeremiah  had  no  freedom  of  action  till  the  decision  was  made  at 
Itamah.  Such  a  supposition  is  indeed  favoured  by  the  mention  of  jiis 
"chains"  in  xl.  1,  4,  but  this  is  perhaps  a  graphic  embellishment  of  the 
narrative.  On  the  .same  principle  we  mvist  not  take  the  language  of  xxxix. 
14  too  literally.  It  is  a  working  up,  with  realistic  touches,  of  the  general 
fact  that  Jeremiah  was  released  after  the  capture  of  Jerusalem  and 
handed  over  to  Gedaliah.  Bennett  (TIip  Bonk  of  Jeremiah,  ii,  174  f. ; 
comp.  Cheyne,  Jeremiah,  his  Life  anil  Times,  p.  183)  thinks  that  it  wns 
at  Kamah  that  Nebuzaradan  first  "  found  leisure  to  inquire  into  the  deserts 
of  individual  prisoners."  Stade  (GVI.  I,  090)  rejects  the  whole  of  eh. 
xxxix.  as  well  as  xl.  1. 


■m 


ost 

llt'8 

at 
Ills 
the 
:ix. 
•ral 
iiid 

f-; 

ivas 
•rts 
ch. 


Ch.  X,  §  1243 


THE  GOVERNOR'S  APPEAL 


exiled  friends.  To  Jeremiah  the  main  question  was  where 
he  could  best  serve  the  cause  and  people  of  Jeliovah.' 
Possibly  the  prospect  of  a  revival  of  the  national  spirit 
under  the  lead  of  Gedaliah,  and  the  desire  to  prepare  the 
way  for  the  restoration,  after  the  fulfilment  of  the  "  seventy 
years,"  helped  to  turn  the  scale.  So  here  at  Ilaniah,  a 
place  already  associated  in  his  deepest  prophetic  musings 
with  the  grief  and  fate  of  Israel  (xxxi.  15),  he  bade  a 
tearful  farewell  to  his  lifelong  companions.  Knowing 
that  they  would  come  under  the  care  of  his  pupil  Ezekit'l, 
he  felt  the  more  reconciled  to  the  breaking  of  the  bond. 
Then  the  lonely  man,  now  doubly  homeless,  turned  to 
the  remnant  of  his  people  with  some  little  hope,  and  with 
unconquered  faith.  With  him  was  Baruch,  who  was  learn- 
ing the  lesson  of  his  life's  disappointment  and  finding  in 
the  desolation  of  the  kingdom  and  its  cities  the  explana- 
tion of  the  master's  startling  message  of  eighteen  years 
before  (Jer.  xlv.). 

§  1243.  The  first  official  duty  of  Gedaliah  was  to  take 
measures  to  reconcile  the  scattered  bands  of  Judaites  to  the 
new  government.  Hence  he  issued  a  formal  appeal  to  the 
chiefs  who  came  to  him  (Jer.  xl.  8)  and  sent  messengers 
with  the  same  declaration  to  those  who  still  stood  aloof. 
The  announcement  was  to  this  effect :  "  Fear  not  to  serve 
the  Chakheans :  make  your  abode  in  the  land,  and  serve 
the  king  of  Babylon,  and  it  shall  be  well  with  you.  As  for 
me,  I  am  going  to  abide  at  Miz})ah  as  agent  for  the  Clial- 
du'ans^  who  will  come  to  us.^  But  do  ye  gather  in  wine 
and  summer  fruit  and  oil  and  put  it  into  your  vessels,  and 
abide  in  the  cities  which  ye  have  occupied  "  (Jer.  xl.  9  f.). 
For  a  time  the  outlook  was  promising.     Foremost  among 


1  Very  improbable  is  the  conjecture  of  Gratz.  partially  api)rovc(l  by 
Cheyne.  that  Jer.  xv.  10-'21  reproduces  the  inward  debate  of  Jeremiah  on 
this  occasion  ;  see  §  112(5.  Bennett  (Hook  of  Jeremiah,  ii,  170-178)  well 
describes  the  prophet's  state  of  mind  before  his  decision  was  reached. 

2  Literally,  "to  stand  before  the  Chaldajans." 

^  That  is,  for  tribute  and  to  take  account  of  the  administration. 


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300 


HINDRANCES,    HELPS,   AND   WORSHIP  Book  X 


those  who  fell  in  with  the  administration,  along  with  some 
of  lesser  note,  were  Ishmael,  son  of  Nethaniah,  and 
Johanan,^  son  of  Kareah  (xl.  8).  Besides  these  there  was 
an  influx,  smaller  or  greater,  of  Judaite  refugees  from 
Moab,  Ammon,  Edom,  and  other  border  lands,  who  were 
lured  by  the  promise  of  a  settled  government  and  of  an 
unmolested  tenancy  of  the  lands  left  unoccupied.  No 
details  are  given  of  the  progress  of  the  settlement.  It  was 
said  in  Babylonia  thrt  those  left  in  the  old  land  were  full 
of  hope  and  ambition  (Ez.  xxxiii.  24).  But  we  can  read 
be*  ween  the  lines  of  the  record  a  story  of  hard  struggles 
Oil  '  'le  part  of  the  people,  who  had  border  raids  to  repel  and 
ill  ic  quarrels  to  settle,  with  little  genius  for  coopera- 

tion and  little  disposed  to  submit  to  authority.  We  must 
»^1  ,o  keep  in  mind  that  to  the  most  of  them  the  Chaldican 
oveiJ^  idshij)  ,v^'  scarcely  apparent,  being  displayed  only 
to  Gedaliah  and  his  officials  during  the  stated  visits  of 
the  governor-in-chief  from  lliblah. 

§  1244.  A  chief  conservative  element  was  the  charac- 
ter of  Gedaliah.  He  was  ingenuous,  patient,  large-hearted, 
mediating  admirably  between  the  governor-general  of 
Syria  and  his  own  turbulent  fellow-countrymen.  But 
there  was  another  helpful  influence,  of  which  Jeremiah 
was  the  directing  genius.  They  were  still  in  Jehovah's 
land,  though  his  ancient  seat  was  overthrown.  In  the 
"  Watch-tower  "  city ,2  within  view  of  the  ruins  of  Jerusa- 
lem, they  could  erect  an  altar  to  his  worship.  There  is 
indeed  a  tradition  (2  Mace.  ii.  1  ff.)  to  the  effect  that  at 
the  command  of  Jeremiah  his  companions  took  with  them 
the  fire  from  the  altar  of  the  temple,  and  that  he  bore 


1  The  Hebrew  text  adds  here  "Jonathan,"  but  the  name  does  not 
appear  in  2  K.  xxv.  2:}  nor  in  the  Sept.,  nor  is  it  again  mentioned.  It  is 
a  clerical  error,  due  to  the  similarity  of  the  two  conimim  names. 

2  Mizpah  is  the  modern  Neby  Snmicil  (cf.  t  Sam.  vii.  5),  about  four 
miles  northwest  of  Jerusalem,  commanding  one  of  the  most  extensive 
views  in  Palestine.  It  was  a  fortress  of  the  second  class  (cf.  1  K.  xv.  22), 
and  was  probably  rebuilt  after  its  destruction  by  Sinacherib. 


Ch.  X,  §  1246 


CONSriRACY  OF  ISHMAEL 


301 


away  with  him  to  Mount  Pisgah  the  tabornacle  and  the 
ark.  The  allusion  to  the  sacred  fire  is  especially  signifi- 
cant, as  it  is  apparently  a  distorted  reminiscence  of  this 
reerection  of  Jehovah's  altar  on  Mount  Mizpah.  More- 
over, there  is  more  direct  evidence  that  Mizpah,  an  ancient 
shrine  and  gathering-place  (Hos.  v.  1),  was  now  a  reli- 
gious centre  for  the  remnant  of  Israel.  The  pilgrims  who 
were  slain  by  Ishmael  (§  1248)  as  they  came  to  Mizpah 
are  said  to  have  been  on  their  way  to  "the  house  of 
Jehovah  "  ( Jer.  xl.  5).  Here  then  a  new  sanctuary  was 
set  up  under  meaner  yet  purer  auspices;  and  there  at 
last  Jeremiah  had  his  way  in  the  conduct  of  the  sacred 
services. 

§  1245.  But  the  enterprise  which  loyalty  and  piety  were 
carrying  on  against  tremendous  odds  was  frustrated  in  a 
moment  by  fanaticism  and  treachery.  Ishmael,  son  of 
Nethaniah  (§  1243),  the  cleverest  and  most  unscrupulous 
of  the  chiefs,  was  ill  at  ease  from  the  beginning  of  the 
settlement.  He  wished  to  live  in  his  native  land,  but 
he  would  not  endure  the  yoke  of  the  Chaldeans.  He  hated 
Gedaliah  because  of  his  noble  character,  because  he  had 
been  set  above  himself  who  was  of  the  royal  race,  and 
because  he  represented  the  detested  foreigners.  He  dis- 
simulated his  feelings ;  but  finding  it  intolerable  to  live  in 
the  same  region  with  the  governor,  he  resorted  to  an  old 
ally  and  kindred  spirit,  Baalis,  king  of  the  Ammonites. 
The  two  worthies  hatched  a  conspiracy.  They  could  not 
hope  to  overthrow  the  Babylonian  domination ;  but  if  the 
governmental  experiment  should  end  in  disaster,  the  over- 
lord might  abandon  the  country  in  disgust,  and  then 
would  come  the  chance  for  the  predatory  Ammonite  and 
the  caitiff  Israelite.  Seizing  an  opportune  time,  he  came 
over  the  Jordan  with  a  small  band  of  raiders. 

§  124G.  Taking  ten  leading  men  with  him  of  his  own 
kindred,  enough  to  do  sudden  murder,  but  not  enough 
to  excite  apprehension,  he  paid  a  visit  to  Mizpah.  His 
coming   was  not  unexpected   by  Gedaliah,  for  Johanan, 


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302 


TREASON   AND   MURDER 


Book  X 


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son  of  Kareah,  had  got  wind  of  the  plot  and  warned  the 
governor,  even  offering  to  go  out  and  put  Ishmael  to  death 
while  his  expedition  was  getting  under  way.  Gedaliah, 
however,  was  too  magnanimous  to  believe  such  treacliery 
possible,  and  forbade  Johanan  to  take  any  action  whatever 
(Jer.  xl.  13-10).  On  their  arrival,  he  invited  Islimael  and 
liis  party  to  his  table,  where  some  of  his  council  and  the 
resident  ChahUeans  were  present  to  meet  them.  At  a 
concerted  signal  the  guests  fell  upon  the  host  and  his 
friends  and  did  them  to  death  (Jer.  xli.  1-3).  So  little 
had  Gedaliah  mistrusted  the  villains  that  he  had,  as  it 
would  seem,  left  himself  without  a  sufficient  guard,  and 
Johanan  also  was  absent  at  the  very  time  when  he  was 
needed  most.  It  was  the  season  of  the  pilgrimage.  Tiie 
most  popular  of  the  ancient  feasts  (Jud.  ix.  27  ;  xxi.  19  ff.), 
the  feast  of  Tabernacles,  in  the  seventh  month  (§  8G2), 
had  survived  the  national  temple  ;  and  Ishmael  and  his 
party  may  have  made  themselves  welcome  to  the  townsmen 
by  coming  in  the  guise  of  offerers. 

§  1247.  Their  real  feelings  towards  Mizpah,  its  shrine, 
and  the  administration  of  which  it  was  the  centre,  were 
shown  on  the  following  day.  A  company  of  eighty  pil- 
grims from  Samaria,  Shechem,  and  Shiloh,i  with  the  marks 
of  penance  upon  them,  and  bringing  offerings  to  the  sacred 
place,  were  lapproaching  the  town.  Ishmael  went  out  to 
meet  them,  also  in  the  guise  of  a  mourner,  and  offered  to 
bring  them  at  once  to  the  governor,  so  that  their  safety 
and  comfort  might  be  secured.  No  sooner  were  they  well 
within  the  walls,  than  he  and  his  band  murdered  the  whole 
conjpany  except  a  few  of  them  who  saved  their  lives  by 
revealing  certain  places  where  they  had  stores  of  wheat 
and  barley,  oil  and  honey.  The  dead  bodies  were  thrown 
into  an  ancient  reservoir,  originally  intended  for  a  military 

^  The  coming  of  these  worshippers  from  the  old  territory  of  Ephraim 
is  a  striiting  evidence  that  the  settlement  at  M  ^pah  was  a  religious  suc- 
cess, and  that  its  "  house  of  Jehovah  "  had,  as  a  resort  of  devotees,  taken 
tlie  place  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem. 


Cn.  X,  §  1249 


THE   SURVIVORS   MIGRATE 


303 


water-supply  ^  (Jer.  xli.  4-lt).  The  imis.sacre  would  deter 
others  from  resorting  to  Mizpah,  and  thus  weaken  the 
governor's  defence.  He  then  decam[)ed,  fearing  tlie  ven- 
geance of  Johanan,  carrying  with  him  the  daughters  of 
king  Zedekiah  and  other  residents  of  Mizpah  who  had 
been  conanitted  to  the  care  of  Gedaliah  (Jer.  xli.  10). 

§  1248.  Tidings  of  these  atrocities  came  soon  to  the 
officers  at  their  stations.  Johanan  with  some  of  his  col- 
leagues and  a  sufficient  force  i)ursued  after  Ishmael  and 
overtook  his  motley  band,  "  by  the  great  waters  that  are 
in  (Jibeon."  At  this  spot,  less  than  two  miles  to  the 
north  of  INIizpah,  already  renowned  for  two  historic 
tragedies  (1  Sam.  ii.  12-24;  xx.  8-10),  the  pursuers  fell 
upon  the  freebooters ;  Ishmael  escaped  to  the  Ammonites 
with  eight  of  his  men.  The  prisoners  had  made  their 
escape  from  Ishmael  before  the  attack.  Among  them 
were  Jeremiah  and  Uaruch  (Jer.  xli.  11-15).        , 

§  1240.  Under  a  stable  government  this  episode  of 
Ishmael  would  have  been  merely  a  serious  incident.  But 
to  the  remnant  of  Judah  it  seemed  to  portend  certain  ruin. 
Gedaliah  was  the  only  leader  in  whom  both  the  ("hal- 
dieans  and  their  subjects  had  confidence.  He  was  a  rare 
and  noble  soul,  the  last  scion  of  a  worthy  house,  fitted 
to  do  great  things  in  better  times,  but  not  to  deal  with 
hypocrites  and  cutthroats.  The  vengeance  of  the  over- 
lords for  the  assassination  was  now  to  be  dreaded,  and 
none  of  the  chiefs  had  the  address  or  the  courage  to  pro- 
pose a  conference.  Flight  from  the  ill-fated  country  was 
the  first  and  governing  impulse  of  the  panic-stricken  com- 
pany that  thronged  from  all  quarters  about  Johanan. 
Instinctively  they  moved  soutiiwaid.  Passing  Jerusalem, 
tliey  halted  near  Bethlehem.    It  was  already  agreed  among 


1  Translate  xli.  9,  after  the  Sept.  (of.  Cornill  and  Glesebrccht) :  "  And 
the  cistern  into  wliich  Ishmael  cast  all  the  corpses  of  the  men  whom  he 
had  slain  was  the  ,t;;reat  cistern  which  King  Asa  had  made  on  account  of 
Baasha,  king  of  Israel.  It  did  Ishmael,  son  of  Nethaniah,  fill  with  the 
slain."     (See  1  K.  xv.  17-22.) 


ii: 


tlil 


If  .. 


Pli 


804 


LAST  CAPTIVITY   AND   DESOLATION 


Book  X 


the  leaders  that  it  would  be  best  to  migrate  to  Egypt 
(Jer.  xli.  10-18). 

§  1250.  Their  fears  turned  out  to  be  not  entirely- 
groundless.  The  punishment  that  fell  upon  the  land  was 
presumably  aggravated  by  the  desertion  of  tlie  chiefs, 
which  left  the  Babylonian  province  in  a  state  of  anarchy. 
It  took  the  form  of  another  and  final  deportation.  Of 
this  we  learn  quite  incidentally  from  a  merely  statistical 
passage  which  gives  the  number  of  the  exiles.  "In  the 
twenty-third  year  of  Nebuchadrezzar,  Nebuzaradan,  captain 
of  the  guard,  carried  away  captives  of  the  Judaites  seven 
hundred  and  forty-five  persons  "  (Jer.  Hi.  30  ;  cf.  §  1234). 
None  of  these  belonged  to  Jobanan's  following,  for  these 
by  this  time  were  well  out  of  the  country.  In  this  final 
dis[)lanting,  the  Chaldicans  were  not  so  discriminating  as 
before.  They  took  all  the  surviving  males  whom  they 
could  secure  with  their  families.  This  was  in  581  B.C. 
The  ill-fated  rdgime  of  Gedaliah  had  thus  lasted  over  four 
years. 

§  1251.  The  province  then  reverted  to  utter  desola- 
tion, being  apparently  even  disregarded  by  the  governor- 
general  of  the  West-land  save  for  general  strategic  pur- 
poses. The  old  kingdom  of  Judah  and  Benjamin  became 
a  waste,  visited  only  b}'  Bedawin  shepherds,  fugitives,  and 
travellers  under  escort.  The  Edomites,  Moabites,  and 
Ammonites  made  less  of  the  desire  of  their  eyes  than  tliey 
had  hoped.  They  haunted  the  borders,  however,  and 
among  them  a  few  Israelites  found  precarious  protection. 
If  \Ve  wonder  that  there  are  no  sure  signs  of  political  or 
literary  activity  there  during  the  next  forty-five  years,  the 
reason  is  now  manifest.  And  this  was  in  a  sense  the  end 
of  ancient  Israel.  Henceforth  we  know  only  of  Judaism. 
It  was  the  end  also  of  Semitism  as  a  governing  force  in 
southern  Palestine. 

§  1252.  Among  the  fugitives  encamped  near  Bethle- 
hem (§  1249)  none  had  the  reputation  or  the  dignity  of 
Jeremiah.     He  had  proved  his  political  sagacity  beyond 


i*ii*r-£r 


Cii.  X,  §  1254 


.FKUKMIAIl'S  COUNSEL 


305 


cavil ;  and  if  he  had  not  been  so  true  a  pro[)het  and  so 
profound  a  statesman  he  wouhl  have  been  chosen  the  chief 
counsellor  of  the  enterprise.  But  the  nobles  of  Judah 
never  lacked  a  policy  of  their  own,  and  the  present  leaders, 
reasoning  from  precedent  and  surface  indications,  like  mere 
politicians,  thought  that  their  course  was  marked  out  for 
them  beyond  possibility  of  mist.ike.  To  stay  in  Judah,  so 
they  argued,  was  out  of  the  question ;  and  Avhere  were  the 
conditions  of  living  so  obviously  easy  as  in  the  borderland 
of  Egypt  ?  Pharaoh  Ilophra  wa.  still  king  of  that  country, 
where  trade  and  agriculture  were  flourishing,  and  he  liad 
shown  the  will  at  least  to  lielp  the  Judaites  in  their  time 
of  greatest  need  (§  1218).  True,  Nebuchadrezzar  might 
come  down  upon  Egypt  for  this  and  other  acts  of  defiance ; 
but  such  an  eventuality  could  be  reckoned  with  when  it 
should  arrive.  The  minds  of  Johanan  and  his  colleagues 
were  made  up.  But  they  would  not  go  forward  without 
the  divine  sanction,  and  Jeremiah  was  asked  to  furnish  the 
needed  approval  (Jer.  xlii.  1-3).  They  begged  him  to 
declare  to  them  the  mind  of  Jehovah  (xlii.  4-6 ;  cf.  v- 
20)  ;  but  they  felt  sure  of  a  favourable  oracle. 

§  1253.  It  was  not  till  the  tenth  day  after  this  inter- 
view that  Jeremiah  received  the  divine  answer.  It  ran 
directly  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  the  would-be  emigrants. 
It  was  delivered  by  Jeremiah  to  the  whole  company  with 
characteristic  comments  of  his  own.  Jehovah's  declared 
will  was  that  they  should  abide  in  the  land,  where  lie 
would  protect  and  prosper  them,  and  would  make  the 
king  of  Babylon  favourably  disposed  to  them  instead  of 
their  dreaded  foe.  If,  however,  they  would  go  to  Egy[)t, 
the  sword  and  the  famine  from  which  they  were  fleeing 
would  follow  them  thither  (Jer.  xlii.  7-22). 

§  1254.  With  the  assured  hope  of  Jehovah's  approba- 
tion, Johanan  and  the  other  chiefs  had  been  perfecting 
the  organization  and  preparing  for  the  southward  march. 
The  exasperating  delay  in  the  arrival  of  the  oracle  must 
only  have  strengthened  their  purpose.     They  would  rea- 


<!; 


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MAUCH   Tn   KCiVrr 


Hook  X 


son  that  if  the  divine  will  was  so  unmistakably  unfavour- 
al)le,  it  might  have  been  communicated  sooner,  so  as  to 
relieve  their  anxiety  and  make  some  other  course  more 
possible.  They  therefore  suspected  that  Jeremiah's  mes- 
sage was  not  a  genuine  word  of  Jehovah,  and  his  seel"  '"U 
during  the  nine  days  with  his  trusty  Baruch  gave  occ  .1 
to  a  surmise  that  liaruch  was  the  prime  mover  in  this  dis- 
couraging business.  Making  this  a  direct  charge  against 
the  prophet  and  his  secretary,  they  repudiated  the  oracle 
as  a  forgery  (Jer.  xliii.  1-3).  The  march  to  Egypt  was 
begun  or  rather  resumed,  and  ere  long  the  whole  of  the 
settlement  of  Mizpah  with  the  addition  of  many  fugitives 
from  far  and  near,  besides  the  men  of  the  military  posts 
appointed  by  Gedaliah,  found  themselves  in  the  frontier 
district  surrounding  the  town  of  Tahpanhes.  In  8[)ite  of 
his  evil  prognostications  Jeremiah  was  carried  along  with 
them,  still  attended  by  Baruch  (xliii.  4-7).  Smaller  Jewish 
colonies  were  alieady  in  the  country,  not  only  in  J  gr 
but  also  in  Upper  Egypt  (xliv.  1). 

§  1255.  The  prophet's  work  was  now  almost  done.  At 
Tahpanhes  (the  Greek  Daphne,  the  modern  el  Defenneh, 
between  Pelusiura  and  Zoan,  on  the  Tanitic  branch  of  the 
Nile),  Pharaoh  Ilophra  had  a  palace.  There  was  the 
manifest  beginning  of  the  empire  of  the  Nile  —  a  sover- 
eignty always  odious  to  the  prophets  of  Israel,  and  par- 
ticularly so  to  Jeremiah.  The  remnant  of  Judfih  had  just 
evaded  the  jurisdiction  of  Nebuchadrezzar,  the  "servant 
of  Jehovah,"  and  had  chosen  to  take  refuge  under  the 
shelter  of  the  Pharaoh.  How  little  the  exchange  of  mas- 
ters would  profit  them  was  shown  by  a  symbolic  action 
which  Jeremiah  was  commanded  to  perform.  He  was 
told  to  take  large  stones  and  bury  them  in  the  brick-work 
at  the  entrance  to  the  palace.*     Upon  these  stones  Nebu- 

1  At  el  Defenneh,  Mr.  W.  Flinders  Petrie  found,  in  1880,  the  ruins  of 
a  fortress  now  called  the  "palace  of  the  .lew's  daughter,"  having  a  great 
open-air  platform  of  brick-work,  a  sort  of  mnstaha.  Naturally,  the  stones 
of  the  prophetic  story  were  not  found,  and  never  will  be,  since  they  were 


Cm.  X,  §  1200  THE    "QUEEN  OF   HEAVEN" 


307 


clmclrezz.ir  should  pitch  his  tent  and  set  up  his  throne. 
Then  he  shouhl  nniite  the  hiud  of  Kgypt  with  his  inviiicihlo 
sword,  hurn  the  temples  of  its  gods,  and  carry  off  as  liis 
spoil  its  most  splendid  monuments  (Jer.  xliii.  8-1^}).^ 

§  llioO.  In  Jeremiah's  bitter  cup  the  bitterest  drop  was 
the  last.  lie  had  already  seen  more  than  enough  of  what 
his  [)eo[)le  could  do  in  the  way  of  impiety  and  idolatry  as 
well  as  ingratitude  and  despite  to  Jehovah's  messengers. 
It  has  already  been  remarktnl  (§  1183)  that  in  the  most 
desperate  })ublic  situations  the  superstitious  populace  resort 
most  eagerly  to  supernatural  powers  other  than  the  pro[)er 
national  God.  What  Ezekiel  saw  in  vision  of  their  prac- 
tices in  Jerusalem  just  before  the  fall  of  the  city  (§  1183  f.) 
is  paralleled  by  the  religious  observances  of  the  colony  in 
Egypt.  In  each  case  the  women,  as  at  once  most  devout 
and  most  impressible,  were  mo  t  active  in  the  ceremonies 
of  the  idolatrous  cult.  Their  own  goddess  or  goddesses 
were  naturally  the  favourite  objects  of  adoration ;  and  in 
the  present  instance  they  had  (xliv.  ID)  the  support  of  the 
male  part  of  the  community.  The  particular  deity  here 
honoured  was  the  "•  queen  of  heaven,"  whose  worship  in 
the  streets  of  Jerusalem  had  been  denounced  by  Jeremiah 
himself  twenty-five  years  before  (§  1094).  This  cult  of 
Ashtoreth  or  Ishtar  was  universal  among  northern  Semites, 
and  therefore  much  more  easily  transferred  to  a  foreign 

never  reially  put  in  the  place  described.  If  an  attempt  had  been  Tnade 
to  fulfil  the  coiinnand  literally,  the  prophet  or  aiiy  other  outlaiider  would 
have  been  severely  punished,  —  probably  put  to  deatii,  without  benefit  of 
clergy.  The  Judaites,  of  course,  occupied  a  quarter  by  themselves  as 
remote  as  possible  from  the  Egyptian  magnates.  The  symbolic  action 
was  of  a  character  similar  to  that  of  hiding  a  girdle  by  the  Euphrates, 
and  the  like  performances  (§  1178  f.,  124:1).  It  is  ditticult  to  see  just  what 
is  illustrated  by  this  much-talked-of  discovery. 

1  By  synecdoche  for  the  obelisks  of  Heliopolis(On,  the"  Beth-Shemcsh  " 
of  the  text).  The  business  of  carrying  off  Egyptian  obelisks  was  begun 
by  the  Assyrian  kings  (§  767  note),  and  has  been  carried  on  at  intervals 
ever  since.  The  fulfilment  of  this  prediction  was  of  a  very  general  char- 
acter. The  victorious  campaign  of  Nebuchadrezzar  in  Egypt  (§  13U5)  was 
undertaken  after  the  death  of  the  present  Pharaoh. 


y 


il'  i 


I 


n 


*i ., 


n 


II. 


Irl" 


308 


THE   REWARD   OF   MARTYRDOM 


Book  X 


land  than  tlie  worship  of  Jehovah  himself.  The  plea  of 
her  votaries  that  they  had  abundance  of  good  things  in 
the  old  days  before  the  worship  of  their  goddess  was 
interdicted,  that  is,  before  the  Deuteronomic  reform  (xliv. 
17  f.),  is  not  to  be  taken  too  seriously  (cf.  Num.  xi.  5). 

§  1257.  Lesser  souls  have  found  satisfaction  in  con- 
tempt for  idolatry  and  idolaters.  To  Jeremiah  indignation 
was  more  natural  and  proper.  And  it  actually  seemed  to 
increase  in  proportion  to  the  danger  which  he  incurred  by 
expressing  it.  His  final  denunciation  (xliv.  2-14,  20-30) 
was  never  surpassed  in  terrific  wrath.  His  last  spoken 
words  sound  like  a  veritable  curse  upon  the  miserable 
remnant  of  his  people,  scattered  about  in  this  alien  land. 
But  no  words  of  his  were  more  truly  fulfilled.  Egyi)t 
became  their  grave;  and  there  has  been  no  resurrection 
save  of  the  indignant  soul  of  the  prophet  himself.  Per- 
haps it  was  the  consciousness  that  Jeremiah  was  in  the 
right,  and  the  sting  of  his  invective,  that  led  the  rabble  to 
put  him  to  deatli  by  stoning.  This  tradition  as  to  the 
manner  of  his  taking  off  is  in  itself  very  probable.  It  was 
not  an  unfitting  conclusion  to  his  life,  which  for  nearly 
thirty  years  had  been  a  continued  martyrdom. 

§  1258.  The  career  and  character  of  Jeremiah  are  the 
most  valuable  personal  gift  which  we  have  received  from 
ancient  Israel.  In  the  whole  history  of  his  race  lie  stands 
in  independence  and  fortitude  nearest  to  the  C'lrist.  He 
is  typical  of  all  who  contend  for  righteousness  against 
public  o])inion,  who  defer  to  the  voice  of  God  because  it  is 
the  truest  and  in  the  end  the  strongest.  This,  it  migiit  be 
thought,  is  nothing  rare  in  religious  or  civil  history.  Per- 
haps not,  since  Jeremiah  and  Jesus  set  the  example.  But 
this  is  not  all ;  courage  and  fidelity,  moral  attributes  alone, 
do  not  make  the  prophet,  but,  along  with  courage  and  fidel- 
ity, the  more  spiritual  quality  of  insight.  What,  then,  was 
Jeremiah's  distinction?  Not  merely  that  hv  was  brave  and 
true  against  fearful  odds.  He  has  gained  his  immortality 
and  his  power  mainly  by  taking  his  stand  upon  a  single 


^ 


Cii.  X,  §  i2r)0 


JKHEMIAII   AS   OUR   JUDGE 


300 


concrete  practical  issue ;  namely,  whether  he  should,  as 
a  servant  of  Jehovah,  acquiesce  in  or  oppose  the  policy 
of  his  country  when  he  felt  it  to  be  wrong.  The  great 
conflict  of  his  life  was  wjiged  upon  this  issue.  By  this 
more  than  anything  else  has  his  prophetic  cliaracter  been 
estimated,  and  upon  this  ground  he  challenges  our 
judgment. 

§  1259.  The  only  way  to  judge  of  liis  position  is  to  put 
ourselves  in  his  place.  How  many  to-day  of  the  servants 
of  Clod  in  Church  and  State  in  iJritain  and  the  Colonies 
take  the  position  of  Jeremiah  ?  How  many  reject  the 
motto:  "Our  country  right  orwnmg"?  How  many  try 
to  define  true  patriotism  aright  to  themselves  and  others? 
How  many  have  without  prejudice,  and  in  the  light  of  God's 
truth  and  justice  alone,  tried  to  find  out  how  and  where 
the  responsibility  is  to  be  fixed  for  the  cruel  and  ignoble 
war  waged  between  Great  Britain  and  a  handful  of  her 
kindred  in  South  Africa  ?  How  many,  in  the  spirit  of 
Jeremiah,  hold  up  to  reprobation  the  doctrine  that  what 
is  individually  and  personally  wrong  may  be  nationally  or 
internationally  or  diplomatically  right?  How  many  seek 
to  look  at  the  moral  issues  and  the  alleged  causes  of  the 
war  in  the  right  proportion  and  perspective?  And  liow 
many,  like  Jeremiah,  can  appreciate  the  cliaracter  and  the 
divine  mission  of  the  national  adversary?  How  many 
think  it  worth  while  to  contradict  the  countless  unre- 
tracted  slanders  against  the  Hoers,  lieard  or  read,  and  for 
a  time  beliisved,  by  as  many  millions  of  people  Jis  the 
Boers  number  thousands?  How  many  rebuke  the  popular 
jubilation  and  triumph  over  the  defeats  and  retreats  of  a 
numerically  insignilicant  enemy  ?  Very  few  a[)pear  to 
have  done  any  single  one  of  those  things.  Vet  multitudes 
of  God's  servants  in  the  British  emi)ire  have  courage  ecjual 
to  that  of  Jeremiah.  Can  the  explanation  be  that  "  her 
pro[)hets  find  no  vision  from  the  Lord"  ( liam.  ii.  ?,)? 

§  I2r»0.  "  Where  no  vision  is  the  people  are  un(!on- 
troUed"  (Prov.  xxix.  18).     How  and  why?     Kssentially 


ilf" 


m 


1 1 


1'! 


.  VJ 


If 


^^^4 


i" 


310 


PRESENT-DAY   rROPHETS 


Book  X 


because  the  professional  moral  leaders,  such  as  Jeremiah 
had  to  contend  with,  do  not  know  the  truth  and  effect  of 
things.  In  other  words,  they  do  not  look  into  the  motive 
of  moral  forces  and  their  consequences  in  the  national  life. 
Insight  is  the  gift  of  the  prophet  but  this  induces  and 
implies  foresight.  Ratlier  they  are  one  and  the  same  en- 
dowment, two  modes  of  action  of  the  b'.me  faculty.  Here 
again  Jeremiah  gives  us  an  example  and  suggests  a  practi- 
cal test  of  our  latter-day  prophesying.  Jeremiali's  public 
mission  was  to  expose  a  popular  or  national  fiction.  That 
fiction  was  the  belief  held  by  his  countrymen  that  God  was 
necessarily  on  their  side  because  the}^  had  been  the  people 
of  his  choice.  Other  prophets  had  already  asserted  the 
opposite.  But  it  was  reserved  for  Jeremiah  to  make  clear 
the  practical  issue.  We  know  how  the  memorable  contest 
resulted.  Jeremiah  was  right  because  he  saw  that  the  ques- 
tion was  not  a  political  one,  not  even  mainly  a  religious 
one,  but  a  moral  one,  —  that  God's  providence  itself  fol- 
lowed the  moral  law,  that  good  could  not  come  to  the  nation 
from  evil  devised  or  cherished  by  rulei-s  and  people. 

§  1261.  Our  prophets  have  a  corresponding  fiction  to 
expose.  Instead  of  Zion  and  the  temple  we  take  our 
stand  upon  the  Empire  ;  and  most  of  our  preachers  and 
editors  as  well  as  our  politicians  assert  that  the  supremacy 
of  our  nation  must  be  established  at  any  cost  in  order  that 
civilization  and  morals  and  Christianity  may  be  advanced 
(cf.  §  955).  And  when  all  hell  is  let  loose  in  any  part  of 
God's  fair  earth  (Britain's  soil  and  her  non-combatants 
being  immune  by  the  divine  complacency),  pretty  senti- 
ments are  uttered  from  hundreds  of  [)resses  and  tliousands 
of  pul[)its  about  tlie  triumph  of  righteousness,  the  spread 
of  freedom,  and  the  regeneration  of  the  race.  A  true 
modern  prophet  would  say :  "  What  have  been  the  motives 
and  tiie  methods  of  those  who  abetted  the  war?  Have 
conciliation  and  forbearance  and  the  Cliristian  virtues 
generally  played  their  part  in  <liplomacy  ?  Has  everything 
possible  been  done  both  to  avoid  and  to  avert  bloodshed  ? 


m 


Cii.  X,  §  1262         SIGNIFICANCE  OF  JEREMIAH 


8U 


Have  the  wrongs  or  the  sensibilities  of  the  rival  people 
been  regarded  as  well  as  our  own?  If  not,  though  we 
may  triumph  now,  we  shall  lose  in  the  end.  The  better 
part  of  Britain's  strength  is  her  moral  prestige.  Her  bit- 
terest woe  and  shame  is  the  ebbing  out  of  her  moral  force. 
Unrighteous  or  unnecessary  wars  insure  and  accelerate  her 
national  decadence."  It  is  the  glory  of  Jeremiah  to  have 
shown  that  practical  politics  are  within  the  sphere  of  a 
divine  moral  law.  The  terrible  fulfdment  of  his  predic- 
tions indicates  his  foresight  and  his  insight.  Only  results 
that  might  be  felt  could  quell  the  practical  politicians  ;  and 
their  successors  to-day  are  slowly  but  surely  receiving  the 
same  lesson. 

§  1'202.  The  wider  meaning  of  the  life  of  Jeremiah 
is  for  mankind.  He  is  the  most  human  of  the  prophets, 
with  some  failings  both  of  word  and  act,  yet  with  the 
strength  of  a  moral  and  spiritual  hero.  He  is  one  of  the 
few  men  of  history  who,  even  while  we  regard  them,  aie 
enlarged  and  transfigured  from  individuals  to  types.  He 
was  the  ideal  patriot,  of  an  order  of  patriots  scarcely 
known  as  yet  to  our  Christian  communities ;  a  typical 
preacher  and  teacher,  who  wielded  a  rod  indeed,  but 
used  it  oftenest  upon  himself ;  a  burden-bearer  for  his 
peoi)le ;  a  man  of  sorrows,  who  suffered  for  them  in  his 
own  person,  as  he  loved  them  with  a  devotion  sacrificial 
and  intercessory  (§  1127).  Thus,  too,  he  continued  to 
minister  to  his  people  and  to  humanity  after  the  tragedy 
of  his  life  liad  been  finished.  "The  pro[)het  never  dies." 
His  life  and  teacliing  formed  a  transition  stage  to  the  con- 
ception of  the  "suffering  servant  of  Jehovali,"  so  infi- 
nitely profound  and  [)otontial.  And  now,  still  more  than 
of  old,  his  spirit  rules  the  true  Israel  from  the  tond).  For 
while  law  and  ritual  (§  1008)  are  shrinking  slowly  but 
surely  into  the  background,  and  are  going  the  way  of  all 
that  rests  on  form  and  force,  love  and  faith  take  the  abdi- 
cated seats  and  gain  an  ampler  and  more  potent  sway. 
And  when  we  are  tempted  to  be  untrue  to  the  highest 


li 


u 


i'(  It;; 
^'11 


'■M 


\\ 


I 

A. 


- 


m 


r 


i^^i 


312 


"THE    FKOPHET   NEVER   DIES" 


BookX 


interests  of  our  country  or  of  humanity,  or  to  our  life's 
divine  commission  whatever  it  may  be  (Jer.  xvii.  16),  the 
tear-stained  face  of  Jeremiah  appeals  to  us  through  thp 
beclouded  past  like  the  look  of  a  wronged  and  deserted 
friend ;  and  we  hear  his  great  strong  word  sounding  high 
above  the  babble  of  our  time,  a  trumpet  call  to  loyalty 
and  duty. 


(I..      a!i 


vJU'IMUm.^  "^i^*" 


■  tijutaii  — — fwi 


CTIAPTEK   Xr 


THE  p:xile  as  ax  epoch 


§  1263.  The  Babylonian  Exile  of  Isiac;!  must  seem, 
even  to  the  casual  observer,  the  most  extraordinary  event 
in  the  world's  history.  The  whole  career  f)f  the  chosen 
people  was  a  series  of  marvels,  but  compared  with  this 
all  the  other  events  of  that  career  were  connnonplace. 
Such  must  be  the  judgment  of  the  modern  scrutineer: 
and  such  was  the  judgment  of  the  greatest  of  spiritual 
seers,  who  was  not  permitted  to  share  in  the  Exile,  but 
whose  faith  was  nourished  nj^jon  the  foresight  of  its  results. 
To  Jeremiah  even  the  deliverance  from  Egyj)t  was  made 
insignificant  by  the  outcome  of  the  captivity  (Jer.  xxiii. 
7,  8).  To  him  the  preservation  of  his  [)C()ple  through  tlie 
Exile  to  the  Return  was  the  climax  of  the  self-revelation 
of  the  "ever  living  Ciod."  At  the  beginning  of  our  sur- 
vey of  the  national  development  of  Israel  our  attention 
was  arrested  by  the  vitality  and  persistence  of  the  people 
of  Jehovah  (§  434),  as  seen  in  its  evolution  out  of  a  com- 
munity of  fugitive  slaves.  I'hrough  that  stage  oi  its 
history,  however,  we  may  follow,  by  tliglits  of  imagina- 
tion, if  not  by  measured  steps  of  scientilic  reseaich,  the 
upward  and  onw.ird  progress  of  the  race.  lint  here  it 
would  seem  that  the  laws  of  development  must  be  set 
aside.  It  appe.irs  not  like  a  process  of  evolution,  but  like 
a  work  of  recreation.  In  the  ancient  East,  even  more  than 
elsewhere,  the  loss  of  political  autonomy  meant  tlie  obliter- 
ation of  a  people.     Judah  and  Jerusalem  suffered  absolute 


m 


iii 


it 


.'♦; 


if 


w- 


w   I 


[i!> 


4J14 


PARADOX  OF  THE   EXILE 


Book  X 


national  extinction,  and  yet  the  Jews  have  survived. 
There,  too,  deportation  brought  to  pass  what  it  was  designed 
to  accomplish,  the  crushing  out  of  the  national  spirit;  and 
yet  exile  had  the  effect  of  intensifying  the  patriotism  of 
the  banished  Judaites  (Ps.  cxxvi.,  cxxxvii.).  In  all  ages 
and  regions  the  genius  of  a  community  or  a  people  is  most 
active  and  fruitful  upon  the  soil  of  tlie  home-land  and 
under  its  skies.  But  the  genius  of  Israel,  which  had 
been  almost  extinguished  in  Palestine,  flamed  out  in 
IJabylonia  with  unequalled  splendour.  The  si)iritual 
endowments  of  Israel,  the  faith  and  insight  aiul  devo- 
tion that  were  the  hope  of  the  world,  were  stifled  and 
quenched  in  the  days  of  its  freedom  and  oi)portunity. 
But  the  spirit  of  Israel  in  its  ca[)tivity  reclaimed  its 
heritage:  it  "led  captivity  captive  and  received  gifts 
among  men,  that  Jehovah  God  might  dwell  among 
them." 

§  120-i.  But  it  is  not  the  task  of  an  historian  to  resolve 
paradoxes.  The  seeming  contradictions  and  inconsis- 
tencies of  Israel's  career  are  not  isolated  or  irrelevant 
incidents.  They  are  facts  in  vital  and  essential  inter- 
relations. We  must  strive  to  find  tlie  conditions  of  that 
foreign  soil  and  atmosphere  into  which  Israel  was  trans- 
planted anJ  from  which  it  drew  the  physical  and  intellec- 
tual nourishment  that  re[)aired  its  lost  vitality  so  that  it 
could  be  called  "a  scion  of  Jehovah's  planting"  (Isa.  Ix. 
21).  We  must  learn  how  the  loss  of  external  privileges 
and  advantages  were  in  themselves  actually  a  means  of 
grace,  and  how,  besides,  they  were  re[)laced  by  new  moral 
and  religious  helps,  that  touched  more  nearly  the  life  of 
tlie  spirit.  We  must  inquire  what  that  real  Israel  was 
which  remained  intact  during  a  social  and  political  catas- 
tro[»he,  and  what  was  the  essential  vital  truth  tliat  made 
this  saving  remnant  the  salt  of  the  earth.  We  must 
learn  how  hope  came  from  the  loss  of  hope,  and  a  new 
and  deathless  ideal  from  the  destroying  of  the  real; 
how  the  visions  of  a  restored  Jerusalem,  cherished  by  a 


Cii.  \'I,  §  1265      THE   QUESTIONS   IT   SUGGESTS 


31/ 


nameless  prophet,  laid  the  unseen  foundations  of  the  City 
of  God. 

§  1205.     The  necessity  of  a  broad  and  comprehensive 
view  find  metliod  is  most  obvious  when  we  come  to  deal 
with  Israel  in  Exile.     It  was  a  time  of  political  revolu- 
tion, or  rather  devolution.     Wliat  sort  of  government  was 
that  which  was  then  forfeited?     How  much  of  the  past 
had    it   retained?     AVhat   elements   passed   over   j)crma- 
nently  into  the  new  society?     I  low  was  this  society  out- 
wardly moulded  under  the  foreign  regime?    It  was  a  time 
of  social  change.      How  were  the  exiles  distributed   in 
Babylonia?     How  were  they  grouped  together?     What 
were  their  employments?     How  did  Babylonian  ways  and 
business  methods  affect  them?     It  was  a  time  of  moral 
testing  and   sifting.       How   did   they   abide    the   trial? 
What  moral  characteristics  did  tliey  bring  Avith  them? 
Were  these   improved  in  exile,  or  did  they  deteriorate? 
How  were  they  influenced  by  what  they  did  and  saw  and 
beard  in  Babylonia?     It  was  a  time  of  intellectual  stimu- 
lus.    What  writings  did  the}' bring  with  them  into  exile? 
What  region  of  their  life  in  Palestine  did  it  especially 
touch   or   move?     What  were  the  new   literary  produc- 
tions?    HoAV  were  these  evoked   and  moulded?     What 
were  the  gains  from  contact  with  the  cultured  and  book- 
learned   Babylonians?     How  did   these  tit  in  with  their 
pievious  knowledge  and  conceptions?     It  was  a  time  of 
relicfious  trial  and  rev'olution.     What  religious  views  and 
beliefs  did  they  bring  with  them  into  ca[)tivity?     How 
were  these  rooted  in  their  life  and  exi)erience  in  the  old 
land?     What  new  light  came  to  them  througli  their  resi- 
dence  among  the   kindied   and   yet  alien    Babylonians? 
How  were  their  preconceptions  altered  thi'ougli  the  recent 
facts  of  tlieir  own  liistory  and  their  wider  knowledge  of 
the  world?     How  were  they  led  to  regard  Jehovah  in  the 
light  of  his  dealings  with  them  and  of  the  fates  of  the 
nations?     It  was  a  time  of  change  in  worsliip.     The  old 
sacred  places   were   theirs   no   more.     The   temple,    the 


i  .:    I 


:    » 


■is   r^: 
i      Hi 

Ml  :* 


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If 

■ 

1 

.  ■  f 

;i    ■        '! 


ill 


310 


ISRAEL   REMADE    BY  THE    EXILE 


Book  X 


w 

It.; 


official  priesthood,  the  feasts,  were  perforce  discarded. 
How  had  they  regarded  these  sacra  when  in  Palestine? 
What  if  anything  now  took  their  place? 

§  12GG.  Israel  was  remade  hy  the  Exile:  this  is  a 
patent  fact  of  history.  It  did  not  simply  outgrow  and 
shulHe  off  its  past:  it  was  torn  away  from  it.  It  was 
seized  and  Imrled  far  away  over  the  desert.  It  was 
wrenched  away  from  its  land,  its  home,  its  liearth,  its 
vine  and  fig  tree,  its  market-place,  its  burying-ground, 
and  its  sanctuary.  It  had  to  begin  life  over  again. 
To  understand  the  new  life  we  must  once  more  take 
account  of  elementary  social,  political,  and  moral  forces. 
The  questions  of  transference  and  a  new  environment 
are  now  of  primary  importance;  and  their  significance  is 
enhanced  when  we  consider  not  merely  the  strangeness 
of  Babylonia,  but  its  culture,  its  wealth,  its  antiquity,  its 
organization,  its  easy  supremacy  over  mankind  in  what 
appealed  to  sense  or  reason  or  imagination ;  and  all  tliis 
in  contrast  with  the  forlornness  and  helplessness  of  the 
bewildered  captives. 

§  12G7.  At  the  same  time,  no  period  of  the  history  of 
Israel  serves  better  than  the  Exile  as  a  stand[)oint  for 
review  and  perspective.  Although  but  few  well-ascer- 
tained events  excite  the  attenti(m,  the  situation  and  the 
historical  conditions  are  exceptionally  clear  and  distinct. 
Israel's  world  is  being  shaped  anew.  The  sun  and  moon 
and  stars  are  out  of  the  sky,  but  in  the  primordial  light 
that  comes  from  the  play  of  cosmic  forces  the  old  familiar 
objects  are  seen  in  clear  relief,  in  separate,  unshaded  dis- 
tinctness. Here  we  have  Israel  reduced  to  its  essential 
elements.  It  is  now  a  people  more  manageable,  more 
plastic,  more  intelligible  than  in  the  past.  There  is  a 
haziness  about  the  outliu' :;  in  all  the  images  that  we  form 
of  the  political  and  religious  movements  of  the  ages  pre- 
ceding the  Exile.  This  is  partly  due  to  the  gaps  in  the 
record,  but  partly  also  to  the  intrinsic  obscurity  of  the 
mixed  social  conditions  and  politics  of  the  country  and 


» i. 


C».  XI,  §1207      ADDKI)    LIGHT  AND  CLKARNKSS 


;J17 


tlie  people.     In  both  directions  the  Exile  brings  light  and 
clearness.     Henceforth   for   centuries   the   political   rela- 
tions of  the  Hebrews  are  simple  and  constant.     They  fit 
themselves,  directly  or  indirectly,  into  tlie  service  of  the 
empires   that  control  the  new  order  of  the   world;   and 
there  they  stay.     Tlie  writings,  also,  that  illustrate  the 
new  era  are  plainer  and  more  practical.     The  new  proph- 
ecy, even  when  grandiose  and  exi)ansive,  is  more  objec- 
tive, being  always  relevant  to  known  contemporary  events, 
while  the  earlier  discourses  often  produce  general  rather 
than  definite  im[)ressions.     But  what  is  of  most  conse- 
quence is  the  fact  that  in  the  Exile  the  whole  intellectual 
and  s[)iritual  heritage  of  Israel  —  its  beliefs,  it  usages,  and 
its  laws  —are  brought  to  the  test  of  new  conditions,  and 
revised  and  readapted  to  the  needs  of  a  new  community. 
And  the  further  acquisitions  made  in  the  time  and  place 
mark  of  themselves  a  new  epoch,  bearing  unmistakably 
the  stamp  of  Babylonia. 


1 1  m 


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■^^^HK 

!i 


CHAPTER  XII 


THE  DEl'ORTATIONS 


§  1268.  But  first  of  all  we  must  see  exactly  what  is 
meant  by  the  Babylonian  captivity.  As  already  indicated 
(§  1234  and  note,  12o0),  there  were  three  separate 
deportations.  The  total  of  forty-six  hundred,  supple- 
mented by  the  wives,  children,  and  slaves,  might  easily 
represent  twenty  thousand  souls,  and  of  these  the  first 
deportation  contributed  between  nine  and  ten  tliousand. 
It  accordingly  equalled  the  other  two  combined.  Not 
only  was  it  the  largest  numerically,  but  with  it,  according 
to  the  express  statement  of  the  record  (2  K.  xxiv.  14), 
went  the  flower  of  the  city  and  nation.  Besides  Jehoi- 
akim  and  his  circle  of  nobles  it  contained  such  men  as 
Ezekiel,  and  men  of  influence  like  the  prophets  who 
opposed  the  policy  of  himself  and  Jeremiah  (Jer.  xxix. 
21  ff.).  On  the  other  hand,  most  of  the  popular  leaders 
of  the  final  revolt  were  put  to  death  at  lliblah  (§  1235), 
and  the  others,  including  such  commanding  figures  as 
Jeremiah  and  Gedaliah,  did  not  go  to  Babylonia  at  all. 

§  12G9.  Certain  preliminary  inferences  may  be  made 
from  these  facts.  First,  the  people  of  the  Exile,  in  the 
comprehensive  sense  of  the  term,  had  laid  in  Babylonia 
the  foundations  of  their  social  and  civil  system  before  the 
fall  of  Jerusalem.  Second,  we  are  to  find  among  Ezekiel 
and  his  companions  the  men  who  determined  the  religious 
character  and  tendencies  of  the  first  half  of  the  Captivity. 
Third,  while  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  was  still  a  decisive 
factor  in  the  religious  and  political  life  of  the  Exile,  it 

318 


Ch.  XII,  §  1271 


CLASSKS   OF    EXILES 


ni« 


was  so  iniiiiily  because  of  its  importance  to  tlie  i)e()i»le 
already  in  exile,  who  comprised  nearly  all  of  Israel  that 
were  to  tell  upon  the  future. 

§  1270.  Let  us  look  into  the  jn'oscription  and  banish- 
ment of  the  exiles  as  a  whole.  The  second  de[)ortation 
differed  fnmi  the  others  mainly  in  the  exceptional  sever- 
it}^  shown  to  the  leaders  of  the  (inal  revolt.  During  tlie 
actual  journey  eastward  the  same  general  plan  was 
followed  in  all  three.  In  pursuance  of  the  system  so 
carefully  followed  out,  a  classification  of  the  [)risoners 
was  made  at  the  very  beginning  (§  12o2,  note).  The 
distinguished  rebels  were  kept  by  themselves  with  a 
special  guard.  Those  who  were  to  be  subjected  to 
punitive  servitude  were  also  marked  out.  How  many 
there  were  of  the  last-named  class  we  cannot  say  with 
certainty.  To  judge  from  the  silence  of  the  Hebrew 
records  and  the  evidence  that  the  Juihiites  prospered  in 
Babylonia,  it  would  seem  probable  that  these  were  not 
very  numerous.  Tiiose  who  were  free  of  blame  or  "sin  " 
among  the  captives,  and  who  were  not  to  be  subjected 
to  hardship,  also  formed  a  separate  division.  This  class 
would  include  those  who  chose  to  go  into  exile  either 
from  patriotic  motives  or  from  a  desire  not  to  be  se[>a- 
rated  from  their  families  or  friends.  While  tlie  live* 
and  services  of  all  the  population  of  revolted  countries 
and  cities  were  forfeit,  those  to  whom  clemency  was 
extended  became  merely  prisoners  of  the  state.  Tims 
the  choice  was  offered  to  Jeremiah  and  Baruch  to  go 
whither  they  would  (§  1242). 

§  1271.  Representations  are  found  on  Assyrian  bas- 
reliefs  of  men,  women,  and  children  being  driven  away 
from  conquered  cities,  marching  with  bowed  heads  and 
with  hands  fastened  behind  their  backs,  and  beaten  by 
staves  in  the  hands  of  their  guards.  Such  pictures,  like 
the  other  decorative  sculptures,  are  typical,  and  there- 
fore extreme.  The  march  on  foot,  the  fetters,  and  the 
drivers,   were,  however,   facts   of  the   Assyrian   rdgime,. 


;<■!; 


I  ■ 


'f  Mil 


(1 


Ki 


I 


I!:  I 


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4)20 


TKKATMEXT  <»F  CAl'TIVKS 


BiM.K  X 


jiiuelioiated  dcmbtlcss  by  the  Chiildujiins,  and  yet  retained 
by  them  in  their  essential  features.  We  must  not,  how- 
ever, })ase  our  conceptions  of  the  march  of  tlie  Hebrew 
exiles  upon  these  exaggerated  designs.  We  must  keep  in 
mind  the  methods  of  the  C'haM.x'an  administration.  Its 
governing  prin('ii)le  was  utilization  ami  lionservation.  In 
the  process  of  classification  just  alluded  to,  lists  of  the 
ea[)tives  were  made  out  by  the  "man  with  the  writer's 
inkhorn  at  his  side  "  (Ez.  ix.  2  ff. ;  §  1191 ).  The  numera- 
tions and  descriptions  were  sent  to  the  capital,  to  be  there 
put  on  record,  and  the  olficei"s  in  charge  of  the  ex[)edition 
were  held  responsible  for  tlie  safe  arrival  of  the  conscripts. 
Excessive  cruelty  or  neglect  were  therefore  precluded  by 
the  mere  ofiitaal  routine  of  an  advanced  civilization.  Nor 
are  we  to  assume  that  the  whole  of  the  exiles  of  each 
deportation  formed  one  great  band  or  caravan  by  them- 
selves. Their  arrangement  and  distribution  would  bo 
determined  by  C(mvenience  —  by  the  availability  of  troo[)S 
for  a  military  guard,  by  the  fficilities  for  transportation, 
by  the  season  of  the  year,  by  the  character  of  the  several 
classes  of  the  travellei-s  as  above  defined,  to  whom  differ- 
ent sorts  of  treatment  would  l)e  given  according  to  their 
rank,  their  merit,  or  demerit,  and  their  ultimate  destina- 
tion or  condition  of  servitude.  In  fine,  we  can  only  get 
a  clejir  conception  of  the  character  of  these  deportations  as 
a  whole  if  we  remember  that  this  form  of  banishment  was 
less  a  personal  than  a  national  penalty,  consisting  in  the 
loss  of  the  home-land  by  a  transfer  of  residence. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


THE  HEBREW  SETTLEMENT  IN   KARYLONIA 


§  1272.  But  what  of  tlie  exiles  after  their  arrival  in 
Babylonia?  And,  first  of  all,  in  what  places  exactly  weie 
they  settled?  U[)on  this  point  we  have  some  definite  in- 
formation with  regard  to  a  large  portion  of  the  greatest, 
or  first  deportation.  The  allusions  of  Ezekiel  make  it 
clear  that  there  was  along  the  stream  called  Kebar  a  large 
colony  of  his  countrymen.  The  Kebar  was  an  important 
canal  of  central  Babylonia.  In  two  business  documents 
of  the  reign  of  Artaxerxes  I  (4(54-424  n.c.)  mention  is 
made  of  the  stream  Kahar^  which,  as  Ililprecht  says,^ 
was  a  large  navigable  canal  near  the  city  of  Nii)i)ur. 
Though  its  exact  location  has  not  yet  been  fixed,  we  may 
assume  as  almost  certain  that  it  was  a  bianch  of  the  lartjfer 
canal,  the  Shatt-en-Nil  (§  t»4).  Inasmuch  as  the  Hebrew 
colonists  could  not  well  have  been  placed  in  a  thickly 
settled  district,  it  is  probable  that  the  Kebar  lay  to  the 
cast  of  the  great  canal. 

§  1273.  Where  the  other  bands  or  groups  of  exiles 
were  settled  it  is,  at  least  for  the  present,  vain  to  conjec- 
ture, except  that  some,  besides  the  royal  ca[)tives  and 
their  households,  Avere  doubtless  taken  to  the  city  of 
Babylon.  The  Great  King,  while  eager  for  the  develoj)- 
ment  of  the  country  as  a  whole,  was  specially  concerned 
about  his  capital  (§  1055  ff.) ;  and  for  labour  upon  his  vast 
public  and  private  works  a  contingent  would   be  taken 

1  PCT.  IX,  p.  28.    The  word  itself  significantly  means  "  large." 
T  321 


■1 


M 


'  Vi 


% 


l^{ 


DISTUIBUTION   OF   EXILES 


Book  X 


from  every  considerable  importation  of  prisoners  of  war. 
That  many  ^vere  placed  in  other  great  cities  of  tlie  empire 
is  not  probable.  Naturally,  many  of  the  Hebrews  made 
their  way  ultimately  to  one  centre  of  industry  or  another, 
above  all,  to  Babylon.  But  at  first  their  residences  would 
be  determined  by  the  policy  (jf  the  king;  and  that  was  not 
favourable  to  the  upbuilding  of  .any  possible  rival  to  his 
beloved  city.  From  the  conditions  of  half  a  century 
later  it  would  seem  that  the  exiles  came  at  length 
to  be  pretty  widely  distributed.  Among  the  lists  of 
those  returning  from  the  Exile  occurs  a  group  of  names 
of  places^  frcnn  which  certain  persons,  ijo'2  in  number, 
came  to  join  the  main  Ijody  of  pilgrims:  Tel-meladi,  Tel- 
harsha,  Cherub,  Addan,  and  Inuiier  (Kzra.  ii.  ol)  f . ;  Neh. 
vii.  01  f.).  It  is  said  of  tliese  peo[)le  tiiat  they  could 
not  j)rove  their  giMicalogical  connei'tion  with  Israel,  from 
which  we  infer  that  during  tiiese  two  generations  they 
were  se[)arated  from  their  brethren. ^  At  any  rate,  the 
centralizatiim  of  the  exiles  would  be  discouraged  by  the 
im[»erial  authorities  in  order  to  preclude  the  possibility 
of  a  concerted  ui>iising.  We  conclude,  then,  tbat  in  the 
gradual  allocation  several  small  groups  of  the  exiles  were 
formed  in  separate  districts  (ef.  §  130(J). 

1  'riiu  nau)"H  are  iiiUTcslinu;  .and  smne  of  tlit'iii  may  be  explaiiifil, 
thiMii^li  so  far  nont;  of  tlifiii  is  ccrlainly  foiuxl  in  the  Inscriptions,  ilil- 
prt'clit  (I'CT.  IX,  47)  tiiinlcs  Addon  was  orijiinally  the  name  of  a  person 
wiiicli  is  of  fre(iiieiit  oeeurrenee  in  tiie  time  of  Artaxerxes  I,  and  rejiards 
the  word  as  Hebrew  (ih.  \).  27).  It  is  not  elear,  liuwever,  wliy  it  .sliould 
unt  he  native  Babylonian,  wliether  as  plaee  or  i)erson.  t'hcruh  is  proba- 
bly Babylonian,  thouu;li  familiar  to  us  as  a  Bible  word,  not  a  plaee-nanie. 
Til-mi'laih  may  be  "  Mound  of  salt,"  if  the  word  is  Hebrew  ;  if  Baby- 
li>nian.  it  would  be  correctly  Til-mnlnlu  and  means  "  Mouiul  of  the 
boatmen."  Telhnrnhn  is  |)robably  Babylonian,  thoufjh  the  meanini,'  is 
uncertain.  'I'iie  "tels"  are  intrrestin;;;  as  showing  conditions  similar  to 
tliost'  of  'IVl-Abuh  (§  1107).  I'lace-names,  indubitably  Hebrew,  are  not 
found  as  yet  in  Babylonia.  Kasipliia  (Ezra  viii.  17)  is  an  additional  set- 
tleuuMit,  nanu'd  over  a  century  later,  and  Ahava  (Ezra  viii.  17,  21,  .'11), 
also  on  a  canal,  seems  to  have  been  nnu-e  than  a  mere  ji''*therinjr-i)lace. 

■J  We  may  note  that  nevertheless  they  i;rew  to  be  rpiite  numerous,  and, 
still  bearing  the  Hebrew  name,  were  not  absorbed  by  other  populations. 


Cii.  XIII,  §  1275    CONDITIONS  OF  EMPLOYMENT 


323 


lint'd, 
llil- 

liTson 
[fianlrt 
lumUl 

lillllC. 

iJiiby. 
tlio 

\i\ii  is 

lar  to 
not 

II  sot- 
Mi), 

f. 

and, 
ions. 


§  1274.  We  are  on  somewhat  surer  grouiul  when  we 
come  to  deal  with  the  em[)loyments  of  the  captives  and 
their  companions.  The  determining  factors  were  (1^  the 
antecedent  oceuj)ation8  of  the  Hebrews;  ('2)  the  indns- 
trial  re(iuiremenls  of  the  country;  (8)  the  deniands  of  tlie 
royal  policy  and  projected  measures  of  internal  adminis- 
tration;  (4)  the  ruling  social  and  legal  conditions  of  the 
employment  of  labour.  Kach  of  these  matters  should 
have  s<»me  l)rief  consideration,  because  it  is  only  when 
we  can  follow  a  people  through  their  daily  occupations 
that  we  can  trace  intelligently  their  history  as  a  com- 
munity. 

§  1275.  Taking  the  exiles  of  the  three  deportations  as 
a  whdle,  the  majority  of  them  were  better  iitted  f<»r  agri- 
cultural em[)loynients  in  habylonia  tlian  f(»r  any  other 
occu[)ati()n.  They  re[)rcscnted  fairly  well  the  poi»ulation 
of  Judah,  who  could  not  immediately  a(hi[)t  themselves 
to  the  retpiirements  of  art  and  manufacture  in  a  higldy 
civilized  conununity.  Outside  the  cities  most  of  the 
iidiabitants  weie  shepherds,*  indepemlent  t)r  tenant 
farmers,  farm  labourers,  vine  dressers,  and  olive  growers. 
Within  the  hirge  towns  and  in  the  ca[)ilal  itself  were  many 
tm[)loycd  in  the  service  of  tiie  landed  pro[)rietors  on  their 
country  estates.  On  the  other  hand,  the  members  of  the 
guilds  of  craftsnu'u,  such  as  the  "carvers  and  joiners"^ 

•  Tlic  persistency  of  tlie  sliejilirpl  cliiss,  even  in  a  senii-noTnailic  form, 
is  illustrated  by  the  ciuse  (tf  the  Keclialtites.  This  cliisK  is  ni  interest  here, 
beeause  some,  at  least,  of  its  members  were  earried  to  Hahylonia  amon« 
the  people  of  Jerusalrm,  wliere  they  liail  taken  retinre  dnrini;  the  tiist 
blockade  (§  1141).  That  they  survive(l  the  exile,  in  fullilment  of  the 
l)rediction  of  Jeremiah  (ch.  xxxv.  I'.l).  we  learn  from  1  Chr.  ii.  ")5  and 
iv.  12  (Sept.).     <'f.  Meyer.  HntMfhnnii  iIi'h  Jmli  iithnmx,  p.  147. 


If 


KV.,  "craftsmen  and  smiths 


The  former  wurd  (u'-^n),  however, 


denotes  those  who  worketl  with  cnttinii  instruments;  hence  it  is  used 
more  px|)licitly  of  workers  in  wood,  stone,  bronze  or  copper,  iron,  i;old, 
and  silver.  The  .second  word  ("'iD-)  cannot  mean  simply  "smith."  nor 
"locksmith,"  ius  it  is  often  rendered.  I'rohably  the  foriiwr  reft-rs  to  the 
ciittini;  and  shaping;  of  the  material,  the  latter  to  the  construction  of  the 
manufactured  article  (literally,  "one  who  clo.ses  up"). 


I  I 


■':!  k 


'1 


ill 


«  '.; 


■  I 


if 


Iff 


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824 


TRADES   AND   I'KOFKSSIOXS 


Book  X 


m 


(2    K.   xxiv.    14,  16;   Jur.  xxiv.   1;   xxix.   2),    weavers, 
potters,  dyers,  tanners,  and  house-builders,  Avere  not  in 
considerable. 

§  1276.  What  the  Hebrews  in  Babylonia  ultimately 
became  depended  mainly  upon  themselves.  Their  cir- 
cumstances at  the  outset  depended  upon  the  imperial 
policy  and  the  needs  of  the  country.  Looking  at  the 
latter  first,  we  observe  that  there  were  certain  permanent 
demands  for  labour  which  were  never  abated  during  times 
of  national  prosperity  and  vigour.  The  weal  of  Baby- 
lonia was  bound  up  with  the  water  supply  and  its  utili- 
zation. Works  of  canalization  and  irrigation  could  be 
multiplied  indelinitely;  and  whenever  established  they 
required  unremitting  and  intelligent  oversight.  The  cul- 
tivation of  the  soil  and  the  various  processes  of  agricul- 
ture, thus  made  easier  and  more  general,  called  for  a  laige 
force  of  workers.  Partly  indei)eiident  of  agriculture  was 
the  care  of  cattle  by  the  shepherd  class.  To  these  must  be 
added  the  various  avocations  that  furnished  the  a[)pli- 
ances  of  rural  toil  and  increased  its  eniciency  and  comfort. 
Hence,  nourished  by  this  fundamental  industrj',  the  arts 
of  life  which  in  Palestine  (§  484)  had  been  piactised 
only  as  far  as  was  possible  to  a  small  and  secluded 
community,  were  in  Babylonia  develo[)ed  to  a  degree  of 
perfection  elsewhere  unknown  in  Westcin  Asia.  Suih 
were  the  arts  of  weaving,  tanning,  metal-making,  brick- 
making,  and  the  building  and  furnishing  of  dwellings. 
Within  the  realm  of  leisure  and  luxury  was  the  making 
of  ornaments,  of  statues  and  statuettes,  of  decorated 
pf)tter3',  instruments  of  music,  and  other  i)ursuits  that 
served  the  arts  of  pleasure.  Highest  of  all  was  the 
art  of  the  writer,  with  the  stylus,  the  graving  tool,  or 
the  reed.  Again,  u[)on  the  same  agricultural  basis  was 
erected  an  extensive  sjstem  of  trade  and  commerce,  ns 
active  as  it  was  various,  and  regulated  by  every  safeguard 
and  restraint  that  the  experience  of  tlie  trader  or  the  wit 
of  the  lawyer  or  clerk  could  devise  (§  1004). 


1 


Ch.  XIII,  §  1278     PUBLIC    WORKS   AND    LABOURERS  .32.j 

§  1277.  These  were  what  we  may  call  permanent 
industries  and  means  of  employment.  But  Israel  came 
to  Babylonia  at  a  time  of  exceptional  opportunity. 
Nebuchadrezzar,  the  great  restorer  of  Babylonia,  treated 
his  prisoners  of  wixv  as  vassals  and  wards  rather  than  as 
lifelong  criminals.  His  administration,  moreover,  was 
hos[iitable  towards  foreigners,  since  the  improvement  and 
development  of  his  country  made  their  services  desirable. 
His  domestic  statesmanship  had  a  twofold  aim.  On  the 
one  hand,  the  wealth  and  power  of  Babylonia,  as  a  whole, 
were  to  be  eidianced  by  works  of  internal  improvement, 
especially  by  extending  the  area  of  productive  soil  and 
increasing  its  annual  yield.  On  the  other  hand,  the  work 
of  putting  and  keeping  in  order  the  irrigation  works  and 
other  great  enter])rises  demanded  a  strong  administrative 
and  financial  centre,  so  that  the  capital  was  necessarily 
aggrandized  at  the  expense  of  other  imjjortant  towns  as 
local  rivals.  It  wna  mainly  in  carrying  out  the  former 
of  these  aims  that  the  Hebrews  i)layed  their  part.  If 
they  had  come  to  Babylonia  and  had  sjjcnt  their  years 
of  tutelage  under  a  cruel  or  a  declining  regime,  their 
life,  as  a  people,  might  have  been  crushed  out  by  tyranny 
or  exhausted  by  hopeless  and  impotent  effort. 

§  1278.  Most  im[)ortant  of  all  the  elements  that  made 
up  their  new  environment  were  the  conditions  under 
which  they  made  their  living  and  did  their  work.  The 
first  question  that  presses  upon  us  is  that  of  the  tenure 
and  status  of  slaves  in  Babylonia,  since  we  must  take  for 
granted  that  most  of  the  Hebrews  were  assigned  at  first 
to  bond-service  (§  1281).  What  has  been  said  (§  5ll)  ff.) 
of  Hebrew  slaver}'  may  serve  as  a  general  guide,  for  in 
civilized  .ancient  society  usage  and  legislation  prescribed 
nearly  the  same  rules  everywhere  for  the  treatir.fMit  of 
slaves.  The  main  difference  between  ancient  and  modern 
slavery  does  not  concern  the  treatment  of  slaves  so  much 
as  their  social  position  and  prospects.  Among  the  Baby- 
lonians, as  well  as  amour;  the  Egyptians  aud  Hebrews, 


m\ 


:   H 

!^i  i  1 


h 


't 


'!■■! 


320 


CLASSES  OF  SLAVES 


Book  X 


;1     'i 


slaves,  especially  prisoners  of  war  and  victims  of  border 
raids,  might  be  treated  with  the  utmost  cruelty.  Of  this 
we  have  abundant  evidence  from  the  sculptured  represen- 
tations of  labourers  urged  on  in  their  tasks  under  the  lash 
of  taskmasters.^  On  the  other  hand,  slaves  were  often,  in 
everything  save  civic  privileges,  the  equals  of  freemen. 
Many  of  tliem  were  far  better  off  as  slaves  than  they  could 
have  been  as  their  own  masters;  and  this  good  fortune 
apparently  befell  the  chief  part  of  the  Hebrew  exiles. 

§  1279.  The  privileges  and  duties  of  the  servile  class 
in  Babylonia  may  be  set  forth  by  facts  gathered  from  the 
monuments.  Slaves  were  of  several  classes.  First,  tliere 
were  the  slaves  of  the  state.  These  were  mostly  prisoners 
of  war,  who  had  been  taken  in  battle  or  at  the  capture  of  a 
fortress  or  the  surrender  of  a  city.  Originally,  in  da3s  of 
savagery,  such  captives  formed  the  bulk  of  the  servile 
I)Opulation  (§  542,  note).  Their  treatment  was,  upon  the 
whole,  ameliorated  by  advancing  civilization;  but  even 
under  the  least  rigorous  administration  barbarous  severity 
was  shown  to  actual  instigators  or  leaders  of  strife  or 
rebellion.  In  the  later  Assyrian  and  Chaldtean  times  a 
careful  classilication  of  prisoners  was  niJide,  according  to 
which  harsher  oi-  milder  measures  were  adopted  toward 
them  (§  1270).  They  did  not  all  necessarily  remain  the 
property  of  the  crown,  for  those  of  them  to  whom  special 
leniency  was  to  be  shown  might  at  any  time  be  handed 
over  to  corporations  or  private  employers  of  labour.      'J'he 


Ir  ( 


1  As  in  the  piirallcl  instance  referred  to  above  (§  1271),  we  must  beware 
of  takinj^  lliis  as  typical  of  the  general  system.  Prisoners  of  war  ami 
state  criminals  usually  furnished  the  labourers  emi)loyed  in  ,1,'reat  public 
works,  where  the  rui.rt  and  heaviest  mechanical  force  was  recpiired. 
Thus  the  Hebrew  slaves  in  Egy])t  liad  been  enemies  of  the  state.  It  is 
colossal  works  of  tliis  character  that  are  represented  in  the  sculpt  ares, 
wliich  are  in  fact  tan  illustration  throufjhout  of  the  prowess  and  author- 
ity of  the  monarch.  The  fact  that  a  driver  is  placed  over  very  .small 
firoups  of  workmen  shows  that  such  slave  labour  was  of  value  only  as  it 
was  forced,  ditTerini;  thus  from  ordinary  servitude,  as  sot  forth  in  tho 
following  parayraphs. 


f. 


<:h.  XIII,  §  1-279     TEMPLE   AND  TRIVATE   SLAVES 


827 


in 


second  class  were  tlie  temple  slaves.  Their  number  and 
importance  naturally  depended  u[)i)n  the  fortune  of  tlie 
temples  themselves,  and  this  was  Huctuating  and  uncer- 
tain. In  Babylonia,  however,  there  never  was  a  time 
when  the  temples  were  not  numerous  and  enter])risiiii,'; 
and  as  their  business  included  the  whole  ranye  of  handi- 
work, trade,  manufacture,  and  mercantile  employment 
known  to  the  age  and  country,  the  central  government 
itself  did  not  make  a  more  various  and  extensive  use  of 
slave  labour  than  did  these  seats  of  the  gods.  At  tlie 
present  epoch,  however,  on  account  of  the  favour  shown  to 
Babylon  and  Boi-sippa  (§  1000  iT.)  the  provincial  temples 
Avere  declining  in  importance,  and  business  under  sacred 
auspices  was  being  corcentrated  in  the  precincts  of  the 
fortunate  shrines.  Again,  there  were  the  slaves  of  private 
citizens,  who  were  of  various  classes  and  orders  —  the 
manufacturers,  merchants,  and  landed  pro[)riet()i's  taking 
a  leading  place  as  the  owners.  Slaves  were  normally 
ac(iuired  by  purchase;  but  both  temitlcs  and  individual 
citizens  might  come  into  their  possession  by  eiid»»\vment 
from  the  state,  in  consideration  of  services  rendered  or 
of  an  ancient  claim.  During  the  frecpient  changes  of 
dynasty  in  the  later  Babylonian  times,  each  successive 
administration  sought  to  propitiate  the  powerful  priest- 
hood by  substantial  gifts,  of  which  conliscated  lands  and 
their  occupants  came  readiest  to  hand;  and  to  the  families 
of  loyal  su[>porters  similar  benefactions  were  inaile.  'I'lie 
possession  of  slaves,  however,  was  far  from  being  a 
monopoly  of  the  wealthier  classes,  and,  in  tlic  course  of 
business  and  changes  of  fortune,  most  jieople  who  had  a 
modicum  of  money  or  land  had  also  their  servile  retainers. 
Almost  entitled  to  be  classed  by  themselves  were  the 
slaves  of  slaves*  (cf.  §  l:i<SO). 


1  Sec  IViscr.  " Skizzt'  derbabyloiiisclion  UiiSi-lLscliiift,"  in  MitlhiiUtuijen 
(h'r  rdrdcrusiiitisrhiH  (lencllschdft,  18SKJ,  —  an  essay  to  which  I  am  ht-ro 
greatly  iiidohU'd.  IViscr  iiiakcs  a  Kpt'cial  chiss  also  of  tlu"  »//<'</»» 
adKi-ripti,  thu.iu  iiosi^aeii  or  uliuchci  to  u  puiliculai'  doiuuiu,   wUu,  al 


.       :t'J 


!i[l' 


ii;« 


'll 


'■  « 


I 


!■:' 


\:' 


WW 


828 


OlM'OKTI'XrriKS  OF   SLAVES 


Book  X 


h  '  i. 


:*|: 


1 

f 

§  1280.  For  our  present  purpose  it  is  important  to 
notice  tliat  in  Babylonia  slaves  generally,  even  those  who 
were  originally  state  prisoners,  had  the  chance  of  rising 
through  the  several  grades  of  servitude,  and  bettering 
their  condition  by  sale,  by  gift,  by  endowment,  by  legai;y ; 
that  they  could  become  free  by  their  own  purchase,  or  l)y 
redemption  through  another,  or  by  the  generosity  or  the 
necessities  of  their  masters;  that  they  could  be  adopted 
into  the  family  of  an  owner  and  eventually  succeed  to  the 
possession  of  great  estates ;  that  by  a  very  common  form 
of  business  contract  they  were,  when  hired  out  by  their 
masters,  entitled  not  only  to  comi)ensation  during  sick- 
ness or  for  injuries,  but  also  to  a  remuneration  for  their 
labour,  so  that  it  was  possible  for  them  to  accunuihite  a 
small  capital  and  acijuire  slaves  of  their  own ;  moreover, 
that  they  could  become  skilled  craftsmen  by  a  course  of 
legal  apprenticeship.  These  essential  differences  from 
modern  and  western  slavery  set  in  relief  a  fact  of  vital 
significance  in  the  history  of  the  Exile,  that  social  con- 
ditions were  not  unfavourable  to  the  enfranchisement  and 
advancement  of  the  Hebrew  captives.  It  will  also  be 
observed  that  while  in  the  main  the  system  of  servitude 
prevalent  in  Babylonia  was  similar  to  that  with  which  they 
had  been  familiar  in  Palestine,  it  was  at  the  same  time 
better  regulated  by  law  and  custom.  Moreover,  the  posi- 
tion of  freedmen  was  more  secure  under  the  more  stable 
legal  and  business  conditions  of  the  Chaldiean  empire. 
In  general  we  may  conclude  that  for  the  majority  of  the 
exiles,  even  for  m.any  of  those  who  in  the  home-land  had 
servants  of  their  own,  slavery  was,  for  the  first  few  years, 
better  than  freedom,  even  apart  from  the  fact  that  in  the 
servile  state  they  were  provided  for  in  sickness,  want,  and 

Btated  timeH,  had  to  perform  certain  services  for  their  owners,  some- 
what in  the  fiishion  of  the  villeins  of  mediieval  Kurope  (c:f.  Ilallam's 
JUiddle  Aijfin,  New  York,  1880,  I,  liHJ  f.).  They  seem  to  have  been 
mostly  subject  to  the  temples.  The  subject  is  obscure,  and  it  can  hardly 
be  made  out  that  serfdom  uu  a  large  scale  prevailed  in  Babylonia. 


h.: 


Cii.  XIII,  §  1282     FRKKDOM  OF   ACTION    POSSIBLE 


820> 


. 


old  age  —  a  matter  of  conseciuence  to  many  who  had  to 
begin  anew  the  struggle  of  life  in  a  foreign  hind  with 
notiiing  which  they  could  call  their  own. 

§  1281.  The  supi)osition  (§  1:^78)  that  most  of  the 
exiles  were  slaves  in  Babylonia,  wiiether  they  had  been 
free  in  their  own  hmd  or  not,  may  seem  to  be  inconsistent 
with  the  glimpses  of  their  life  in  that  country  which  we 
gain  from  the  book  of  Kzekiel,  and  with  the  exhortation 
addressed  to  them  by  Jeremiah  (ch.  xxix.  4  if.)  to  make 
liomes  for  themselves  and  to  take  part  in  the  lite  and  work 
of  the  country  (§  11(58).  Hut  such  freedom  of  movement 
and  action  as  is  thus  im[)licd  was  quite  possible  to 
Jiabylonian  slaves,  the  oidy  restriction  being  that  the 
labour  of  their  hands  was  at  the  dis[iosal  of  others,  and 
that  they  were  not  endowed  with  civil  riglits.  We  cannot 
insist  on  this  [utint  too  strongly  for  the  correct  conce[)tion 
of  Hebrew  life  at  the  beginning  of  tlie  Exile.  At  the 
same  time  it  is  quite  jmssible  that  several  ])eople  of  means 
who  had  not  favoured  the  rebellion,  besides  those  who 
were  invited  or  permitted  to  accompany  their  banished 
brethren,  were  granted  lands  for  their  supjjort,  and  became 
house-masters  and  men  of  property  at  the  very  thresliold 
of  their  "captivity."  But  the  number  cannot  have  been 
great  even  in  the  chief  agricultural  settlement.  Political 
reasons  alone  would  im})ose  a  restriction,  and  there  was, 
besides,  the  broad,  economic  fact  that  in  all  dei)artments 
of  industry  most  of  the  actual  work  was  done  by  slaves. 

§  1282.  We  may  resume  and  sum  up  as  follows:  The 
exiles  may  from  the  point  of  view  of  their  relation  to  the 
state  and  to  society  be  divided  into  four  classes.  There 
were  first  those  who  were  political  prisoners,  such  as  the 
royal  captives  and  tlieir  following  of  seditious  nobles. 
They  were  kept  in  pris(m  on  a  life  sentence.  Yet  tJKur 
confinement  was  not  necessarily  perpetual.  Nor  did  the 
imprisonment  in  all  cas(!s  involve  the  seclusion  and  j)riva- 
tiojis  of  a  (hmgeon  (§  1147).  Extreme  cruelties  in  Ori- 
ental imprisonment  speedily  end  the  life  of  the  prisoner. 


I  i 


)i  n 


t 


m 


'.J 


i 


] 


I 


m 


330 


AGUICULTUKE   I'AHAMOUNT 


Book  X 


mK 


'm. 


;  ir'-' 


But  many  descendants  of  royalty  and  of  noble  families  are 
found  to  have  survived  the  Exile.  Secondly,  tliere  were 
those  who  having  property  of  their  own,  and  not  having 
been  attainted  as  rebels,  were  permitted  or  encouraged  to 
join  the  ranks  of  the  deixnted  (§  1270).  These  would 
probably  be  allowed  to  purcliase  estates  for  themselves  and 
become  guests  of  the  country  (cf.  §  540)  without  acquiring 
civil  rights.  Thirdly,  there  were  the  rank  and  file  of 
active  rebels.  They  were  doubtless  employed,  at  least  at 
the  beginning,  as  state  labourers  at  the  most  servile  tasks 
under  rigorous  compulsion.  Finally,  there  were  the  body 
of  the  deported  people  not  specially  obnoxious.  These 
were  set  to  Avork  as  slaves,  in  various  occupations. 

§  1283.  The  paramount  importance  of  agriculture 
(§  127G)  is  abundantly  shown  in  surviving  business 
documents.  It  is  also  clearly  illustrated  by  the  inci- 
dental testimony  of  the  monuments,  in  the  sculptured 
sketches  of  irrigating  machines,  in  school-book  exercises 
on  the  task  and  operations  of  husbandry,  and  in  temple 
lists  of  vegetable  productions  due  as  contributions  and 
classified  according  to  the  implements  used  in  tilling  the 
producing  soil.  All  inquiry  into  the  industrial,  com- 
mercial, and  social  features  of  Babylonian  life  must 
begin  with  a  study  of  its  agriculture  and  the  antecedent 
conditions  of  climate,  soil,  and  water  supply.  Moreover, 
the  principal  colony  of  the  exiles  was  planted  in  a  region 
which  demanded  this  employment  and  no  other.  To  learn 
under  what  conditions  they  plied  their  calling  will  enable 
us  not  merely  to  follow  aright  their  outward  fortunes,  but 
to  understand  how  their  character  was  moulded  in  their 
new  national  training  school. 

§  1284.  We  must  picture  to  ourselves  a  vast  level  region, 
whose  surface  is  varied  only  by  the  mounds  of  cities  or  vil- 
lages ruined  or  inhabited,  or  by  occasional  fortresses  or  mili- 
tary stations,  and  by  the  beds  of  watercourses.  It  was  the 
very  heart  of  Babylonia  geographically  that  the  chief 
colony  occupied,  but  the  most  populous  area  was  to  the 


.1 


Cii.  XIII,  §  1286       NIPPUR   AND   ITS  TKMI'LK 


;i:Jl 


west  and  north  wliere  lay  Babylon  and  its  suburbs,  and 
cities  more  ancient  still.  Nippur,  the  great  old  city  in  the 
neighbourhood,  was  once  the  central  resort  of  the  Baby- 
lonian Semites.  Recent  investigations  upon  its  site  have 
revealed  the  turning-points  in  its  liistory.  Like  the  lest 
of  the  most  ancient  cities  of  the  lower  Eui)hrates  region, 
and  indeed  like  ancient  cities  generally,  its  importance  de- 
pended upon  the  supremacy  of  its  leading  temple.  Nipi)ur 
was  the  seat  of  the  most  ancient  worship  of  Bel.  The 
predominance  of  a  rival  temple  of  Bel  would  mean  the 
decline  of  Nippur,  and  perhaps  its  forcible  demolition. 

§  1285.  What  prejudiced  Nippur  most  seriously  was  the 
rise  and  prosperity  of  Babylon.  'I'he  great  ChamiuHrabi 
(§  117),  who  aimed  to  make  Babylon  the  centre  of  the 
revived  and  extended  native  monarchy,  united  the  worship 
of  his  local  deity  Merodach  with  that  of  the  more  ancient 
and  widely  revered  Bel.*  The  consequences  to  Nippur 
and  its  prestige  and  prosperity  were  disastrous.  It  is  not 
certain  but  that  violence  was  used  to  make  more  complete 
the  degradation  of  the  venerable  cult  of  Bel.  According 
to  a  recent  explorer  of  its  site  "its  temple  was  sacked,  its 
statuary  and  rich  votive  gifts  wantonly  destroyed."  ^  The 
same  policy  of  neglect  and  disfavour  was  continued  for  sev- 


1  The  results  of  this  oombiiiiition  of  the  titles  and  .attributes  of  Rel  and 
Marduk  are  well  shown  by  Jastrow,  HHA.  p.  117  f.  The  aiipnciation  nf 
Marduk  leails  to  his  appropriation  of  the  rAli!  ami  his  assuiniition  uf  the 
great  n.aine  of  Bel,  while  "  Marduk-Mel  and  Marduk  are  blendt-d  into  on(! 
personage,  Marduk  becoming'  known  as  Hcl-Manluk,  ami,  linally,  the  first 
part  of  the  oonipound  sinkiui^  to  the  level  of  a  mere  adjective,  the  iro,!  is 
addressed  as  '  lord  Marduk.'  "  One  of  the  monumental  indications  of  tiiis 
syncretism  is  found  in  the  desifinations  of  the  outer  and  inner  walls  of 
Babylon  (§  l()i">8).  Sini;ularly  enouirh.  the  outer  and  iinier  walls  of  Nip- 
pur were  caUed  respectively  Xriiiilti-Mardiik-  and  lunpir-MnnUik  (II  U. 
60.  28,  21)  a  and  />).  Dr.  I'eters  sinipiy  refers  to  the  outer  wall  as  "  Nindtti- 
Bel "  (Xippur,  II,  212,  .172). 

^  I'eters,  in  Xipjnir,  II,  2.')7.  It  is  just  po.ssible  that,  according  to 
Ililprecht's  supposition  (I'CT.  I.  ii,  .*];$),  this  desecration  was  the  work  of 
the  invadiufc  Elamites  shortly  before  (cf.  §  KM!  ff,).  At  any  rate,  it  is  clear 
that  Chummurabi  did  nothing'  tu  repair  the  ruin  wruu^dit  iu  the  temple. 


!'    I 

■  '■' ", 

: '11 

iii 


M 


!^l 


I 


.,.v 

IHI 

( 

•  I. 


NIl'I'l'Il    DKrUKCIATEI) 


Book  X 


enil  centuries.  The  kings  of  the  Kasshite  dynasty,  who  as 
foreignei's  had  no  local  prejudices,  restored  the  ancient 
splendour  of  the  temple  of  Hel,  and  therewith  the  pros- 
perity of  the  city  and  district  returned. 

§  128»i.  lUit  a  new  work  of  destruction  was  undertaken 
under  Nei)uchadre/.zar  I  (§  178),  and  the  temple  was  razed 
to  the  ground.  It  w'as  not  until  near  the  close  of  the  As- 
S3'rian  sui)remacy  that  it  was  again  reinstated.  Esarhaddon 
recognizeil  no  rivalry  between  liahylon  and  Nippur,  and  his 
e(iuaniniity  towards  the  former  ( J^  748  f.  )  was  matched  by 
a  generous  interest  in  the  latter.  His  son  Asshurbanipal, 
with  more  leisure  and  a  more  active  Babylonian  policy, 
continued  to  favour  Nippur,  with  the  hope  of  dividing  the 
religious  and  therefore  the  political  interest  of  Babylonia, 
which  caused  him  so  much  trouble  and  loss.  Large  monu- 
mental remains  of  these  patrons  of  Nippur  have  been  found 
by  the  latest  explorers.  They  have  also  discovered  proofs 
of  the  op[)Osition  displayed  by  the  revived  Chaldiean 
dynasty  in  the  days  of  which  we  are  now  writing.  If  the 
conjecture  of  Peters  ^  is  correct,  Nippur  was  destroyed  by 
the  great  Nebuchadrezzar  in  his  zeal  for  the  aggrandize- 
ment of  Bel-Merodacli  in  the  capital  city  of  Babylon. 

§  1287.  The  demolition  of  a  temple  and  the  subversion 
of  its  woi-ship  involved  loss  of  prestige  and  of  business, 
both  of  which  depended  mainly  upon  the  appreciation  of 
the  local  shrines.  Allusion  has  already  been  made  to  the 
business  functions  of  that  remarkable  institution,  a  great 
Babylonian  temple  (  §  740,  note).  We  can  partly  account 
for  them  if  we  remember  that  religion  wjis  the  centre  of 
Babylonian  life  generally.  In  practice  this  meant  that  the 
priests  and  other  ministera  of  the  dominant  cults  gained 
riches  for  themselves  and  their  shrines  through  the  sacrificial 
and  votive  offerings,  the  fees  for  divination,  the  gifts  of  chiefs 
and  princes.  It  meant,  however,  more  than  this.  In  most 
civilized  countries  the  professional   ministera  of  religion 


yippur,  II,  262. 


It     [  '    'J 


Cii.  XIII,  §  1288  THE  PHiESTiiooD  IN  nrsiNp:ss 


I,  ,1 


3:]3 


have  been  sooner  or  later  debarred  from  eivil  functions  and 
from  civil  business  on  any  extensive  scale.  Even  when,  as 
in  ancient  E<ify[)t,  circumstances  favoured  their  usuri)ation 
of  the  functions  of  state,*  their  authority  was  not  tolerated 
for  long.  Neither  in  Babylonia  nor  in  Assyria  do  we  read 
of  priests  indul^ang  in  state  intrigues,  tliough  in  the  revo- 
lutionary periods  of  Babylonian  history  their  powerful  sup- 
port was  sometimes  given  to  one  side  or  tlie  other,  so  tliat 
they  virtually  were  in  those  troublesome  times  a  political 
force.  Their  strength,  however,  always  lay  in  their  own 
essential  merit  and  efhciency.  And  this  accounts  for  what 
is  so  remarkable,  tluit,  though  usually  without  civic  andji- 
tion,  they  became  a  great  power  in  the  general  life  of  the 
eountiy  and  the  people. 

§  1288.  Peculiar  to  these  priests  of  Babylonia  were  their 
culture  and  their  science,  so  that  their  prestige  was  not  a 
mere  illusion  l)ased  on  the  credulity  of  the  superstitious 
masses.  They  had  the  power  which  special  knowledge 
always  gives.  Tiiey  were  the  teachers  and  educators  of 
the  people,  and  they  were  liberal  enough  to  profess  in 
their  schools  not  merely  the  mysteries  of  their  own  special 
calling,  l)ut  all  the  learning  of  the  time.  'I'his  was  the 
secret  of  their  uniipie  enterprise  and  success  as  business 
men.  They  were  able  to  acquire  and  maintain  gn-at  estates, 
to  make  large  loans,  to  own  many  slaves  and  employ  many 
labourers,  to  cultivate  much  land,  to  establish  farms  and 
buildings  and  waterways,  and  rear  vast  flocks  of  shec[)  and 
cattle.  Of  course  there  was  in  their  favour  the  pn[)ular 
notion  that  the  whole  land  was  the  i)roperty  of  the  god  or 
gods  of  whom  they  wei'e  the  ministers.  Hence  they  or 
the  temples  received  tithes  and  substantial  offerings,  and 
hence  landed  i)i'opertv  in  their  parishes  easily  fell  into 
their  hands,  lint  the  idea  of  the  divine  ownership  of 
the  soil  was  a  common  belief  among  ancient  2)eo[)les  ;  and 

1  In  the  twenty-first  dyna-sty  (§  207).  Sipniflcaiitly,  the  priestly  rulers 
are  not  recojiiiizfil  as  k'jjilimute  by  Manetho,  who  acknowloilges  the 
rebelliuiis  dyniusly  of  Tanis. 


;'fe' 


t 

' .  1  -    ■ 


,  ^' 


_ 

1  I 


834 


WHY  THE   COLONY   WAS   PLANTED 


Book  X 


nowhere  else  was  the  priesthood  so  cultured,  so  sagacious, 
80  wealthy,  so  enterprising,  and  so  enduring. 

§  1289.  This  survey  may  lielp  us  to  understand  the  con- 
dition of  the  district  in  which  the  main  body  of  the  colonists 
found  themselves.  Notice  that,  on  the  one  hand,  Nippur 
was  after  the  earliest  times  never  a  great  political  centre, 
and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  its  excavated  records  show 
that  when  not  neglected  or  injured  by  an  unfriendly  king, 
its  business  interests  flourished  greatly.^  The  surrounding 
country  shared  inevitably  in  the  prosperity  or  the  decline 
of  Nippur.  What  is  the  inference  as  to  the  question  before 
us?  I  think  it  is  fair  to  assume  that  the  great  Nebuchad- 
rezzar, whose  policy  was  unfavourable  to  Nippur  and  its 
institutions,  but  who  had  at  heart  the  internal  development 
of  his  kingdom,  wjis  now  taking  charge  of  the  natural 
domain  of  that  city,  and  that  the  planting  of  this  colony 
of  Hebrews  in  the  neighlx^urhood  was  an  incident  of  his 
administration  of  the  district.  It  is  further  fair  to  assume 
that  this  community  of  Hebrews,  like  many  others,  was 
under  the  special  ovei"sight  of  state  officials,  to  whom  the 
provincial  or  district  authorities  were  responsible  for  the 
good  conduct  and  eiliciency  of  the  settlers. 

1  See,  for  example,  Nippur,  H,  114  f.,  where  mention  is  made  of  the 
business  records  of  the  great  temple  under  the  friendly  Kasshite  dynasty, 
Tlie  mass  of  business  documents  found  by  Mr.  Ilaynes  (of  the  Tennsyl- 
vania  expediti(m),  in  May,  189:i,  of  which  the  first  instalment  is  published 
by  llilprecht  and  Clay  (I'CT.  vol.  IX),  belong  to  the  Persian  period,  but 
they  illustrate  the  historic  importance  of  Nippur  as  a  business  centre. 


V.ri 


CHAPTER  XIV 


CFIIEF   KMrLOYMENTS   OF   THE   EXILES 


§  1290.  As  to  the  immediate  environment  mid  occupa- 
tion of  this  piincii)al  ('oh)ny,  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the 
whole  of  Iiabyh)nia  is  normally,  and  in  a  sense  niitu rally, 
unproductive;  that  according  to  the  season  of  (lu;  year  or 
the  vicissitudes  of  the  River,  its  sandy  or  marshy  lands  are 
inundated  by  floods  or  [)arched  by  drought ;  that  some- 
times it  is  easy  and  best  to  travel  over  much  of  its  surface 
by  boats  or  rafts,  while  at  other  times  there  is  no  water  in 
the  Euphrates  itself  for  many  miles  of  its  course,  and 
very  little  in  any  of  its  countless  alllucnts;  that  the  canal 
Kebar  lay  at  or  near  the  eastern  limit  of  a  network  of 
watercourses  included  between  the  two  great  streams,  the 
Euphrates  and  the  Shatt-en-Nil.  The  first  and  the  last  care 
of  the  typical  Babylonian  was  to  regulate,  conserve,  and 
utilize  the  water  of  the  River.  His  life  was  spent  in 
reclaiming  the  soil  and  extending  its  productive  area,  by 
drawing  off  the  superfluous  water  of  the  canals  and  reser- 
voirs, by  conveying  it  in  a  constant  stream  to  needy  regions, 
or  by  occasional  outlets  to  districts  dried  by  the  summer 
sun.  It  was  this  that  made  Babylonia  ;  but  more  —  it  was 
this  that  made  the  Babylonians.  The  difficulties  and  prol)- 
lems  of  the  case  were  greater  than  in  Egypt,  and  the  energy, 
watchfulness,  and  contrivance  that  were  needful  made  the 
people  of  the  Euphrates  greater  than  those  of  the  Nile. 
Naturally  there  was  need  of  state  or  corporate  aid. 

§  1291.  We  may  refer  here  to  the  tlescription  of 
the   Babylonian  river  system  already   given    (§   71  ff.). 

.•]35 


]f 


■•' 


hi 


rw 


:m 


BABYLONIAN   CANAL   SVSTKM 


Book  X 


i^iiiiiii 


It  was  pointed  out  that,  as  this  lower  country  was  a 
perfect  i)hiin,  beinjj  little  more  than  a  (le[)Osit  of  the  two 
great  rivers,*  the  course  of  the  Euphrates  was  slow,  and 
at  the  flood  season  there  were  great  overflows  ;  that  at 
various  points  reservoirs  were  made  for  use  in  the  dry 
season  ;  and  that  besides,  an  immense  number  of  canals, 
large  and  small,  were  created  for  purposes  of  irrigation 
and  navigation.  We  shall  now  furthtn-  divide  the  canal- 
ization of  the  country  east  of  the  Euphrates  into  thnio 
stHitions,  determined  mainly  by  the  water  supply  of  the 
lCuj)hrates  and  Tigris,  and  the  varying  distance  from  one 
annther  of  these  two  sourc«;s,  or  "  heads,"  as  they  are 
called  in  the  book  of  (Jenesis.  The  fust  division  would 
embrace  a  district  extending  from  a  little  north  of  Bagh- 
dad to  the  neighbourhood  of  Babylon.  This  region  is 
marlaid  by  the  numerous  canals  runniiifj  from  the  Eu- 
phrati's  right  across  the  narrow  stri[)  of  land  which  hero 
S(4)arates  the  Ilivers.  The  second  com[)riscs  a  large  region 
irrigated  by  the  Euphrates  by  means  of  canals,  which, 
however,  do  not  reach  to  the  I'igris,  but  either  return  to 
tlie  parent  stream  or  are  s[)ent  in  the  sands  and  marshes. 
Iioughly  speaking,  it  would  extend  southwaid  to  about 
the  ancient  Tcllo  (J5  05).  The  tliiid  i)ortion  contains 
what  may  be  strictly  called  Soutlicrn  Babylonia,  including 
sui:h  anci(!nt  sites  as  Tello,  I'W'ech,  Ur,  and  l-hidu  ( J^  100  f. ). 
Here  the  waters  of  the  l^iphi-ates  are  nearly  «'\liausted  by 
subsidence!  and  dt'llection,  and  new  souncs  of  su]»ply  are 
foiiii  '  in  the  great  canals  that  wci«'  le<i  <»IT  from  tlic  fuller 
and  more  rapid  Tigris  well  up  the  stream,  and  brought 
soMllnvestward  towards  the  lower   I^uphrates. 

>5  1"J*.V2.  It  is  in  the  middle  division  that  we  iire  par- 
ticularly interested.  At  the  era  <»f  tlu'  Exile  the  lii'c  of 
th<^  worhl  pulsed  to  and  from   !?.iliylon   unceasingly.     The 

'  It  would  lu'  iimrt'  cdnici  to  iclc  r  to  pri'liiHioric  I'diiiliiiiuiH  and  lo 
8iiy  lliat  lliiH  icnitMiy  is  a  tlfposii  of  ilic  Hi-vt-ral  Mnams  ili.if  forir.criy 
ran  inti)  the  sea,  braMcliiii«  off  from  tlic  iliiiiliratt'H  and  I'igris  at  tin-  cud 
uf  llifir  liiiddlo  Lounse.     I't'.  (jfu.  ii. 


M 


'Il.l 


Cii.  XIV,  §  12J)3 


THE   WATKIl   SUPPLY 


«37 


water  of  the  Euphnites  elotlied  with  venluie  iviul  l)eauty 
the  soil  which  it  had  biouy^ht  down  from  the  far-awa}' 
mountains  of  the  north.  Wherever  the  waters  flowed 
ret^idarly  or  were  ju(U(;iou.sly  (hstrihuted  there  was  fer- 
tility  and  plenty.  Wiierever  tiiere  was  either  prohtiijj^cd 
inundation  or  continut'd  iliyness  there  was  (U'soliition  and 
barrenness.  Tlie  hist-named  conditions  arc;  those  which 
prevail  at  the  present  day;  tiie  former  were  maintained 
in  the  old  Semitic  centuries  or  rather  millenniums,  the 
times  of  Babylonia's  ^neatness.  Hut  the  main  [)ra(li(al 
(juestion  then  was,  how  to  make  the  life-j,Mvin^  water 
reach  far  enou<jfh  ;  how  to  economize  it  in  one  place  that 
it  might  be  iivailable  in  another.  It  was  only  in  exi-ep- 
tional  seasons  that  there  was  a  sn[ierabun(lani'e  of  the 
supply.  By  careful  manaufcmcnt  theie  was  enouj^di  for 
the  region  of  the  Ku[)hrates  jiroper  such  as  I  have  'ndi- 
cated  above.  That  is  to  say,  this  territory  was  not  only 
liabitable  i)ut  luxurious;  not  only  good  for  pasturag**,  but 
the  most  productive  part  of  the  world  for  giain,  for  h(;ibs, 
and  the  fruits  of  the  earth  generall}'.     Hut  to  tin,'  eastwarii 


f   th 


le  range  ot  n-gular  irngatiou  there  was  harrenness, 
at  least  there  was  nuMcly  pasturage  f(»r  Ihteks  ginsit  or 
KUiall.  Instead  of  cities  there  were  villages  or  ('ncamj)- 
mtMits  of  Aranucan  shepherds,  whose  tents  wenj  most 
numerous  near  or  along  the  Tigris.  Natur.iUy  the  extent 
of  arable  and  produ(ti\e  land  varie<l  greatly  with  the 
political  fortunes  of  the  people,  their  indnsirial  habits  ar.tl 
training,  and  tlu'ir  ;onlrol  of  the  water  supply. 

^  \'2\Ki.  Hut  cvervwhe'.'  and  at  all  seasons  \igilance 
and  energy  were  "ssential  to  |>ros[»erity  or  evt^n  to  a  sul»- 
sistence,  possible  allbience  and  ecpially  possible  penury 
being  separated  by  narrow  chances. 


r 


le  iiruicipal  coinii 


di 


tions,  natural  an«l  artilicial,  were  the  height  or  breadth  of 
tlu)  river  at  its  flood  and  the  nundu'r  and  size  of  canals 
drawing  off  water  alM)Vt^  the  regi m  affecte<l.  What  the 
possil)ilities  were  may  lie  illustrated  from  modern  expe- 
riences.     When    the    mendjeis   of    the   second    American 


■'vi 


^  nl 
i. 


i 


m 


m 


I .  .i 


lis' I 

f 


www 


ll 


338 


MODERN    WATER   SUi'PLY 


Book  X 


i   I 


exploring  expedition  to  Babylonia  reached  Ilillah,  the 
I'egion  of  ancient  Babylon,  on  Jan.  2,  1890,  they  found 
the  bed  of  the  Euphrates  at  that  point  nearly  dry,  after 
months  of  drought  which  had  left  the  river,  in  its  normal 
course  farther  up  the  stream,  much  lower  than  usual.  I 
quote  from  the  narrative  of  Dr.  Peters:  "The  rains  which 
hiid  fallen  in  the  last  two  weeks  had  not  been  sufficient  to 
make  good  the  drougiit  of  the  summer.  What  was  left  of 
the  Euphrates  seemed  to  have  deserted  its  original  course 
almost  entirely  and  poured  itself  through  the  Ilindieh 
canal  into  the  Abu  Nejm  and  other  marshes."  ^  This 
canal,  which  finally  merges  itself  in  tlie  Pallakopas  of  the 
Greeks  (i^  100),  runs  southwestward  from  a  point  about 
halfway  between  Bal)yl<)n  and  Si[)par  (^5  94).  A  later  pas- 
sage gives  an  instructive  explanation.^  "Since  the  time 
of  Alexander  the  Great,  if  not  before,  the  Ilindieh  canal 
has  been  a  perpetual  source  of  trouble  to  the  rulera  of  tb*^ 
country.  .  .  .  The  lay  of  the  land,  as  already  stated,  ■> 
such  that  the  Euphrates  soon  show'ed  a  tendency  to  abandon 
its  proper  course,  and  <lescending  by  the  Ilindieh  to  form 
great  marshes  to  the  west  and  south  of  Borsi[)pa.  Dam 
after  dam  has  been  erected,  and  broken.  The  last  dam 
broke  about  ten  years  ago,'^  and  by  the  summer  of  1889 
the  Eu[)hrates  had  entirely  abandoned  its  proper  course. 
For  months,  at  Hillah  and  l)elow,  the  river  bed  was  en- 
tirely dry.  At  Babylon  the  ancient  quay  of  Nebucha- 
drezzar was  exposed  in  its  full  extent,  and  10  get  water  to 
drink  [)eo[ile  dug  wells  at  the  foot  of  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  tjje  country  to  the  west  of  the  Euphrates  suffered 
almost  as  seriously  from  excessive  inundation,  a  great  part 
of  the  region  being  converted  into  swamps.  At  the  time 
of  niy  visit  the  work  of  restoring  the  Euphrates  to  its 
proper  IhmI  had  been  going  on  under  the  direction  of 
French  engineers  for  two  years.  At  a  favourable  [)oint, 
where  the  Euphrates  and   Ilindieh  are  only  a  kilometre 


»  Xippur,  II,  G;).  2  Ibid,  II,  3;!o  f. 


«  Written  apparently  in  18!)7. 


I' 


!  1*1 


Cii.  XIV,  §  1294 


DRIKD-UP   UIVER   BED 


r.l) 


apart,  a  canal  was  dug  connecting  the  two.  A  dam  was 
then  erected  in  the  llindieh  for  tlie  purpose  of  forcing  one- 
half  of  the  water  hack  through  this  canal  into  the  old  hcd. 
Contracts  were  made  with  the  sheikhs  of  various  viUages 
to  furnish  hricks  from  the  ruins  of  IJahylou.  Boats  h)adcd 
with  these  hricks  and  with  stones  brought  from  Hit  and 
other  points  higher  up  the  Euphrates  were  sunk  to  make 
a  foundation,  and  on  this  was  erected  a  dam  of  brush, 
earth,  and  bricks.  The  work  was  finally  completed  after 
my  departure  from  the  country,  and  I  am  informed  that 
one-half  of  the  water  now  descends  by  the  old  bed  of  the 
river." 

§  1204.  Another  set  of  conditions  to  the  east  of  the 
Euphrates  may  be  illustrated  from  the  same  narrative. 
A  few  days  later  the  party  crossed  the  river  at  Diwanich, 
a  town  west  by  south  of  Nippur,  and  near  the  most 
important  official  post  in  central  Babylonia.  Dr.  I'eters 
writes:  "At  Diwanich,  all  was  changed  since  our  last 
visit.  There  was  not  a  drop  of  water  in  the  Eu[)hrates, 
and  had  not  been  for  six  long  months.  The  people  drank 
water  from  wells  dug  in  the  dry  IjimI  of  the  stn'am.  The 
same  condition  prevailed  in  the  Affech  marshes,*  we 
were  told.  The  wells  ran  dry  every  few  days,  so  that  new 
ones  must  be  dug.  The  next  day  a  little  stream  of  water 
came  trickling  down  the  Euphrates,  and  the  whole  town 
turned  out  to  welcome  it.  .  .  .  It  was  clear  to  me  that  as 
the  water  had  reached  Diwanich,  it  must  also  reach  the 
AfTech  marshes  through  the  Daghara  canal."  ^  Two  days 
later  Dr.  Peters  went  to  Nip[)ur  on  horseback.  Of  this 
stage  of  his  journey  he  says :  "We  found  all  the  canals  and 
marshes  dried  up,  and  were  able  to  take  a  straight  course 
to  Nip[)ur,  making  the  distance  between  that  and  Diwanich 
only  live  hours;  something  less  than  fifteen  miles.     What 

1  To  the  west  and  southwest  of  Nippur,  riiinied  from  the  Arab  tribe 
wliicii  iiolds  tlie  district ;  also  writtci   Affij,  ori^'iually  Affcfr. 

^  A  canal  which  once  ran  to  Nippur  from  tliu  Kuplirates,  leaving  tiio 
latter  at  a  point  twenty  miles  lelow  liabylou. 


'I   'ii 


^^ 

j'' 


;', 


St 


l! 


340 


IlISING   OF  THE   WATERS 


Hook  X 


water  had  come  down  the  Daghara  canal  had  l)een  datnined 
first  hy  the  Daghara  Arabs,  and  then  by  the  liehahtha, 
and  the  marshes  were  as  dry  as  a  bone." '  During  the 
excavations  which  followed,  the  water  appeared  in  its 
usual  beds  and  canals,  partly  on  account  of  exceptionally 
heavy  rains.  Finally,  when  the  camp  broke  u[)  in  May, 
nep'ly  all  of  the  party  and  the  workmen  with  the  bag- 
gage were  sent  out  in  boats  to  Ilillah.  Peters  with  a 
small  escort  went  southeastward  by  water  to  visit  Ui, 
Erech,  and  other  famous  old  sites  in  southern  IJabylonia. 
Of  his  departure  he  writes:  "We  floated  down  to  Ilamud- 
al-Herjud's  cami)  in  turadas,^  through  the  reeds,  in  canals  so 
covered  with  the  white  ranunculus  that  one  might  have 
fancied  snow  had  fallen.  Here  we  lunched  with  our  three 
chiefs  and  took  a  siesta.  In  the  cool,  toward  eventide, 
we  started  again,  and  as  daikness  was  falling,  landed  in 
fro  it  of  the  magnilicent  new  muthif*  of  Ilajji  Tarfa,  .  .  . 
and  as  we  journeyed  thither  we  heard  on  all  sides  a  chorus  of 
men's  voices,  working  at  the  dams  in  the  rice  fields,  for  the 
waters  were  rising  mightily,  and  the  dry  and  parched 
land  of  a  few  weeks  before  was  like  to  be  turned  into  one 
mighty  lake."  * 

§  1*29.5.  The  following  ri^numS  of  the  condition  of 
the  whole  region  from  the  same  source  may  lilly  bo 
appended  here  even  at  the  risk  of  some  rei)etition : 
"In  ancient  days  tiiis  whole  country  teemed  with  a 
vast  po[)nlation,  and  Wiis  dotted  witii  innumerable  cities. 
.  .  .  Another  class  of  ruins,  the  ruins  of  the  ancient 
canals,  I  have  not  noticed  at  all,  although  they  are,  if  pos- 
sible, more  numerous,  more  striking,  and  more  character- 
istic than  the  ruins  of  the  citi(!s.  They  run  like  gicat 
arteries  through  the  country,  lines  of  mounds,  ten  t(»  thirty 
feet  higii,  stretching  in  all  directions  as  far  as  the  eye  can 


«  Sec  Xippur,  11,  <»0-n:i. 

3  Hiuiiid  boatH  iiscil  <in  nabylonian  8tn>aniH  lunl  marH)i«>H  (§  inor>). 

8  Tlu'  nui'st  liousi',  or.  iiiiir»>  fnM|iu'ntly.  lint,  of  an  Aral)  cliii-f. 

*  Xijtpur,  II,  102.    Cf.  the  vision  of  rising  waters  in  Ez.  xivii.  1-12. 


L'H.  XIV,  §  12'.I0     TlIK   COUNTUY   AT   I'RRSEXT 


S41 


•      •      • 


reach.  Once  they  ciuried  life-blood  to  every  [Kvit  of  the 
land,  for  the  life  of  this  country  is  water.  Give  it  eanaln 
and  reservoirs  and  dams,  to  distribute  and  conirol  the 
water  supply,  as  Nebuchadrezzar  and  otiiur  great  kin^s 
did,  and  it  is  capable  of  supporting,  by  its  enormous  [)roduc- 
tivity,  an  incredibly  large  population.  lin-ak  its  dams, 
choke  its  canals,  and  it  lajjses  into  jjoverty  and  barbarism. 
Such  is  its  present  condition.  There  is  a  very  scanty  papu- 
lation, largely  in  the  bedouin  state.  There  are  few  towns, 
and  those  without  industry  or  commerce.  There  is  no 
irrigation  except  of  the  rudest  sort,  close  to  the  river  banks  ; 
and  the  land  is  alternately  inmidated  and  parched.  There 
is  no  government  excepting  heavy  oppression  and  irreguhir 
brilxjs  and  taxes.  There  is  a  general  state  of  insecurity. 
There  is  not  a  roa,d  in  the  wh(de  country,  and  no  means  of 
locomotion,  and  the  most  primitive  and  obstructive  igiio- 
i*ance  prevails  everywhere.  The  fust  parent  of  our  civil- 
ization is  in  his  decre[)it  se(!ond  ijhildhood,  but  in  tlie  Tigris 
and  l'^ui)hrates  exists  for  him  a  fountain  of  perpetual  youth. 
Some  day  water  from  that  fountain  will  be  held  to  his 
shrivelled  lips,  the  life-blood  will  course  once  more  through 
Ids  atroi)hied  veins  and  arteries,  and  he  will  rise  to  a  new 
life,  strong  and  vigorous  as  when  in  days  of  yore  he  b<igat 
nations  and  knowledge  together.  "  * 

§  liilKj.  It  was  in  the  most  vigorous  and  pro<l;ictive 
age  of  all  the  long  history  of  Haltylonia  that  the  exiles  of 
Israel  were  plante<l  within  its  borders.  It  was  in  the 
eighth   vear  of   Nebuchadrez/ar   that  the   setth'ment  was 


nia( 


le.     lie  was    then    freed  from  the   eml)arrassment.s  i 


» 


east  and  west  which  had  kejtt  him  busy  in  the  l)cgiiining 
of  his  reign.  With  all  his  i'liorgy  he  was  devoting  himself 
to  the  development  and  eiiiichiiicnt  of  his  v  nipiie.  Ilciice 
ijis  various  imblii'.  woiks  great  and  small.  The  captiven 
of  his  necessary  wars  must  be  made  to  lit  into  hin  plan. 

'  y(ppwr.  II,  imfl.    riiinparr  thr  fltu-  bm  all  ton  slinrt  artirli-.  "  Ftijihra- 
iii  the  KnryilojHiidia  Urilaniiica,  vui.  viii,  by  iW  luU:  Sir  llcury 

IWlillHUIl. 


\\f 


•4 


m.ii] 


*,•":■-    it 


1:1 


;  t 


1i 


Pi 


342 


SITE   OF  THE  CHIEF  COLONY 


Book  X 


I'  .ii 


Hence  the  Hebrews  were  placed  in  the  region  of  the 
Kel)iir.  The  very  name  of  their  chief  gathering-jihice, 
T('l-Al»nb,'  is  suggestive  of  the  work  which  ihey  were  to 
uuilertake.  It  means  the  "ruin-mound  of  tlie  deluge." 
It  was  i)eiha[)S  "a  desohition  of  many  generations," ^  and 
distinguished  among  the  similar  ruined  settlements  of  the 
country  from  a  sni)[)osed  association  with  the  great  deluge, 
which  was  commemorated  alike  in  the  traditions  of  the 
ca[>tivt!  people  and  in  those  of  the  lords  (»f  the  land.  How 
a[)propriate  was  the  fate  of  the  exiles,  that  their  life  work 
was  to  Ihj  the  repairing  of  a  ruined  settlement  while  their 
own  home  was  itself  in  ruins  ! 

§  1297.  There  is  another  indication  that  the  exiles  occu- 
pied an  abandoned  district.  If  the  land  had  been  already 
in  a  satisfactory  state  of  cultivation,  it  would  have  had  a 
population,  lM)nd  and  free,  which  it  would  have  been  folly 
to  extrude  for  the  sake  of  untrained  foreigners.  Again,  as 
some  of  the  exiles  were  apparently  men  of  property,  the 
freeholds  which  they  could  most  readily  accjuire  were  the 
waste-lands  of  the  country,  just  as  in  the  present  century 
homesteads  have  been  granted  on  easy  terms  to  settlei-s  in 
the  United  States  and  Canada.  The  whole  situation  thus 
assumed  fits  in  well  with  the  polit-y  of  Nebuchadrezzar. 
All  economical  and  political  considerations  would  move 
him  to  emi»loy  the  immigrants  in  such  a  way  ivs  to  gradu- 
ally accustom  them  to  the  life  and  business  of  the  country, 
without  interfering  with  the  possessions  of  others. 

'  Ezek.  iii.  l."s  UHimlly  wrilt»'n,  afii-r  the  slifzlit  error  of  tlio  reoeivi'd 
Hebrew  text,  Tel-Al)ili,  and  expliiiurtl  as  "  iiioiiml  of  corn-ears."  or 
"  ('i>rnliill."  But  the  word  is  a  very  enninion  one  in  tlie  Assyrian  litera- 
ture, tiiouiih  not  a8  the  name  of  a  city,  just  as  tiie  phenomenon  itself  was 
very  usual.     The  Bal)vloiiians  did  not  speak  Ilebri'W  ! 

'^  The  l)usine.>*s  i<(  re.storinj;  wa.sie  pluce.s,  a.'<sii,'ned  r..  his  fellow-coun- 
trymen, may  have  8UKf;e«te<|  thf  frequent  referj-nces  t<>  such  a  task  i>r 
achievement  in  the  witin^s  of  the  Second  Isaiaii  ,  r  </.  I.sa.  xlix.  I'.t,  Iviii. 
I'J,  l\i.  4.  observe  als.>  tiis  Hllusions  to  the  nisdin^,  destnn-tiv«>  tlood 
(iix.  lU),  to  thp  ovorfldwini;  stream  with  its  enriclun^  waU^rs  (^Kiviii.  18, 
Ixvi.  12),  and  to  the  "  well  watered  garden,"  in  connection  with  the 
building  up  of  waste  phio^s  (Ivlii.  11). 


Cii.  XIV,  §  1290  LOCAL  CANAL   SVSTKM 


.'143 


§  12U8.  To  lesunu! :  tlie  chief  coinmuiiity  of  the  exiles 
was  |>hiiiteil  as  a  crown  colony  in  the  centre  of  IJiihylonia ; 
in  ii  tein[»orarily  ahaiulonetl  district;  ch)se  to  t!ie  nionnd  of 
a  noted  ruin  ,  on  the  ed<j;e  of  a  considerable  canal  not  far 
from  the  famous  old  city  of  Ni[)[)ur,  naturally  within  its 
sphert!  of  inlluence,  yet  not  under  its  jurisdiction  ;  and  the 
most  imjjortant  condition  of  its  [)rosperity  was  the  possi- 
hilit}'  of  a  jrood  water-su[)i)ly. 

§  I'J'.M).  The  general  distribution  of  tlie  canal  system 
has  already  been  indicated  (§  1*291).  A  more  particular 
survey  (»f  the  watercourses  of  this  rcgiiui  will  show  that  its 
chances  were  not  unfavourable.  The  Kui)hrates  was  not 
directly  thcj  main  feeder  of  its  streams.  The  great  source 
of  su[)[)ly  was  the  Shatt-en-Nil,  the  most  important  canal, 
indeed,  of  all  liabylonia,  because  the  most  ceJitral  besides 
being  one  of  the  longest.  It  is  sometimes  described  as 
having  left  the  Kuphrates  just  above  the  city,  running 
eastward  to  the  Tigris  and  sending  down  a  branch  as  far 
as  Nippur.'  This,  however,  can  hardly  be  correct.  The 
canal  which  thus  stiirts  from  near  Habylon  was  at  fiixt  an 
indei)endent  artilicial  stream,  parallel  to  the  svstem  of 
intertluvial  drainage  of  North  Babylonia  al)ove  describiMl. 
Through  its  importance  to  the  capital  and  its  union  with 
the  Shatt-en-Nil  j)roper,  it  came  to  be  considered  the  pii- 
niary  source  of  this  great  canal,  which  was  really  at  first  an 
independent  branch  of  the  Kuphrates,  like  the  rallakopas. 
It  separated  from  the  main  stream  near  Sippar,  running 
downward  by  Nii)i)ur,  and  thence  far  along  beside  Ereeli 
to  the  sea,  in  the  days  when  no  dry  land  lay  farther  south. 
We  have  to  think  also  of  other  watei'courses  as  supplying 
the  settlement,  having  the  Ku[.hrates  as  their  source,  such 
as  the  Daghara  caiial  C§  \2'M),  running  east  or  soutb  from 
the  parent  stream.  Most  i)r()l)ably  not  one  of  ihese,  but 
one  derived  from  the  Shatt-en-Nil,  and  running  eastward, 
was  the  Kebar. 


»  Sir  Henry  Uawlinson,  ariiclu  "  Kuphratps,"  in  tlic  Ennjcl.  Brit. 


./ 


i. 


II .. 


844 


OPENING  OF   BRANCH   CANALS 


Book  X 


§  1300.  The  function  of  the  Kebar  probably  was  to  ex- 
tend the  water-supply  farther  out  into  the  barren  region 
that  stretched  away  towards  tlie  Tigris.  I  low  such 
streams  larger  or  smaller  came  to  be  multiplied  is  suggested 
by  an  entry  in  the  diary  of  Dr.  Peters  of  March  17, 1881),  with 
regard  to  this  very  neighbourhood,  Nippur  being  then  the 
centre  of  his  survey.  "  Yesterday  Harper  and  I  rode  out  to 
two  small  mounds  about  an  hour  and  a  half  away  to  the 
northeast,  called  Abu  Jowan  or  Father  of  Millstones.  .  .  . 
There  are  several  large  canal  beds  in  the  neighbourhood. 
One  we  followed  westward,  but  it  disappeared  about  half  an 
hour  from  Nippur.  I  think  it  originally  went  on  and  joined 
the  Shatt-en-Nil  to  the  north  of  the  mound.'  We  passed 
several  cross  canals  on  the  way.  The  sand-hills  lie  to  the 
north  and  northeast  of  us;  they  are  of  iine  sea-sand,^  and 
constantly  change  sha[)e  as  blown  about  by  the  wind.  The 
Eu[)hrates  seems  to  be  rising,  and  the  water  is  approaching 
the  mound  on  the  north  and  west."^  In  the  j>eriod  of  re- 
construction with  which  we  are  concerned,  there  were, 
doubtless,  also,  apart  from  the  Kebar,  many  old  canal  beds 
to  be  reopened,  and,  what  was  of  equal  consequence,  new 
watercoui-ses  had  to  be  dug  until  the  whole  country  be- 
came reticulated  with  them.  Not  until  then  could  if,  be 
permeated  with  the  "  water  of  life." 

§  1301.  When  the  colony  had  been  quartered  in  this 
region,  they  began  to  build  more  permanent  dwelling- 
places.  Those  of  them  who  soon  or  later  came  to  have 
houses  of  the  better  class  had  no  need  of  elaborate  brick- 
making.  The  chief  materials  were  obtained  from  the 
mounds   of    ruined   towns   in    the   neighbourhood ;    or   a 


u       ( 


1  Tlic  prpat  mouml.  naiiu'ly,  that  of  Xippnr. 

*  This  "sea-sand"  jiivcs  tho  explanation  of  the  arenaoeons  charaeter 
of  much  of  the  surface  of  the  country.  It  is  bronirht  up  in  hiriie  quiinti- 
ties  by  the  frecpient  winds  from  the  seashore  and  tlie  adjacent  desert. 
These  winds,  by  the  way,  occasion  many  of  tlie  cyclones,  which,  com- 
bined witii  inundations  or  vain  storms,  produce  a  "deluge  "  (cf.  §  1200). 

»  Nippur,  I,  268. 


Cii.  XIV,  §  1302      VAUIETV   OF   KMI'LOYMKNT  ;M.') 

lot  of  8un-(liieil  bricks  was  onleietl  from  the  nearest 
factory.  Most  of  tliem  as  slaves  of  native  [)lanters  had, 
however,  to  put  U[)  with  the  ordinary  siniiile  structure  — 
a  hut  of  reeds  matted  together  with  tough  marsh-gra«s 
and  overlaid  with  hitumen.  While  shelter  was  thus  hcing 
provided,  their  essential  work  had  already  hegini.  Dams 
and  dikes  were  created  to  prevent  [)ossil)le  «)Verllows.  Old 
watercourses  half  choked  uj)  were  cleaned  out,  and  new 
ones  were  started.  The  soil  had  also  to  l)e  prepared  in 
many  places,  especially  on  the  marshy  lanils,  where  the 
reeds  and  thick  grasses  had  to  he  removed  hy  burning. 
Contrivances  for  the  raising  and  carrying  of  water  to  the 
fields  were  also  set  in  place  and  order  before  the  lirst  grow- 
ing HCiison  had  havu  entered  upon. 

§  I.'IU'J.  Such  in  the  main  was  the  early  em[>loyment 
of  this  important  section  of  the  exiles.  We  must  not 
think,  however,  of  these  essays  as  being,  to  any  large 
extent,  inde[)endent  work.  The  few  who  secured  estates 
for  themselves  hired  or  bought  native  labourers,  skilled 
and  unskilled.  The  majority  found  their  plai-es  under 
native  overseers.  To  follow  them  uj)  further  at  their 
work  wouhl  be  to  see  an  extension  of  the  same  opera- 
tions. We  should  olwerve  the  cutting  of  new  a<iueducts 
for  lands  newly  reclaimed  from  the  sand  or  the  marshes, 
with  reservoirs  for  the  ncctls  of  the  growing  i)oi)»dati()n  ;  and 
liere  and  there  larger  streams  for  towns  and  villages,  with 
smaller  channels  jilanted  lit  the  centres  of  irrigation,  divert- 
ing the  water  to  the  separate  estates  or  to  tields  of  grain, 
or  to  groves  of  date-palms.  With  increasing  wants  and 
resources  came  the  adoption  and  use  of  various  mechanical 
devices  for  the  conservation,  (listributi(tn,  and  regulation 
of  the  waters,  the  sluices,  gates,  and  locks  of  the  canals, 
the  wheels!  and  other  contrivances  for  raising  water  in 
smaller  quantities  and  for  conveying  it  to  needy  places. 

1 'riu'SP  water-wheels  deserve  iimre  tliiUi  a  mere  iiieiitinii.  We  can 
judiic  of  tliem  only  from  inodern  siirvivalH.  h\U  we  may  lie  sure  that  tley 
were  emj>l<.yed  by  the  aiicieiils  alsu,  though  in  a  far  butter  fnHhion,  sineo 


:i 


n 


^1 


ij 


1 


i!      1 


340 


rU< KiUKSS  OF  TIIK   SKTTLKMKNT 


IIOOK    X 


55  l.'5():]. 


'I'liiis  went  on,  uikKt  tlu;  eyes  and  by  tlio 
ffinwinj;  skill  of  tlio  tollers,  the  rcgentiiiition  of  the  distiiet 
f(H'  \vhi«'h  they  were  nuule  so  larLjcly  responsible.  Aeres 
of  rich  vegetation  were  yearly  added  to  the  [>rodut;tive 
areas  —  wheat  and  sesame  indigenons  to  tlie  eonntrv,  and 
ahnnihinee  of  vegetables,  partienlarly  of  nu'lons  and  cncnni- 
Ikms,  radishes,  leeks,  and  onions,  for  whieh  the  eoinitry  was 
renowned.'  I'alni  trees  abounded,  not  like  the  isolated 
grove  of  Jerieho,  but  in  long  and  stately  rows  wherever 
the  kindly  moisture  bade  them  grow  and  thrive.  And  not 
least  imjiortant  were  the  pasture-grounds,  widening  out 
with  the  ex[>ansion  of  the  water-meadow  and  the  tilth. 
Here  were  reared  the  sheej)  and  (lattle  that  now  served  for 
food  or  wealth  alone,  and  not  also  for  saeriliee,  and  oxen 
for  labour  at  the  plough  or  the  wagon  or  the  water- 
wheel. 

§  1JJ04.  Thus  "the  desert  wju;  rejoieing  and  blossom- 
ing like  a  meadow-llower  "  ( Isa.  xxxv.  1),  and  the  exiles 
still  half-enslaved  were  renewing  their  life  and  prosperity. 
They  were  now  in  a  goodly  lan<l.  To  north  and  sojith, 
but  especially  to  the  west,  one  looked  over  smiling  (ields 
and  meadows  of  the  riehest  green,  and  among  them  here 
and  there  the  glimmering  watera.     Only  to  the  east  the 

llie  lattt'r-<lay  inliabitniiU)  of  tlio  ri-Rion  Invent  nntliing.  The  great  water- 
wlii'ds  {mtititra)  are  used  where  tliere  Is  a  HlmiiH  eurrent.  DaniH  are 
run  far  out  fmin  tlic  bank  ti)  raise  tlie  level  of  the  stream  and  ho  increase 
the  watiT  iHiwer.  This  Is  ust-d  to  turn  lar^'e  wheels,  oft«'n  of  thiity  feet 
in  (lianietcr,  niaile  niosily  of  lion.L;hs,  with  paddles  of  ]>alin  leaves.  The 
wheels  are  atlai-hed  to  the  ends  of  the  dams  or  jiiers,  and  raise  the  water 
to  a  troufili,  whenee  it  is  distributed  to  the  tields  of  t^rain  or  melons,  or  to 
tlu'  nanh-ns  alonn  Hie  banks.  These  wln-cIs  impede  navi^jation  seriou.sly. 
Tlie  ox  wat»'r-wheels  (jird)  are  far  more  eomnion  and  are  u.sed  more  in 
eanals  of  lower  Babylonia  than  in  the  main  Kuphrates.  On  a  declivity 
on  the  bank  of  the  stream,  ro])es  on  block-wheels  run  up  and  down,  bav- 
in),' water-skins  attached  to  them,  and  beinji  rai.sed  and  lowered  by  o.\en 
on  the  shore.  See  the  illustration  in  \ipiiiii;  I.  1;>»I.  and  cf.  ihi<l.,  p.  I.')4  f. 
and  :520,  and  the  article  "  Kuj)hrates"  in  the  Eiinjrl.  Urit. 

'  Cf.  the  list  of  veptables  and  |)lants  —  .seventy  In  number  —  in  the 
garden  of  .Memdach-I  aladan ;  see  Delitzsch,  I'rultyinncna,  p.  84. 


( '11.  XIV,  §  1.106        OCCASIONAL    DUAWIJACKS 


.147 


tlio 


view  was  of  hiirc  and  uiit'ultiviit«'<l  stt'i)[K's.  'I'liis  outlonk 
was  ail  incuiitivo  as  Wfll  as  a  (lisappoiiitnieiit.  In  that 
spivadiii^  waste  was  tlio  ln»i»o  of  a  larger  coiuiiuist  of  nature. 
Yet  it  suggested  to  tliein  the  [ireseiKU!  of  enemies.  It 
was  not  always  a  time  of  verdure  and  fertility.  Floods 
and  storms  anil  drought  eame  now  and  then  with  desola- 
tion in  their  train.  During  the  long  months  of  drought  it 
was  the  cattle  that  suft'ered  most  severely.  Unless  driven 
olY  from  the  dried-u[>  marshes  and  meadows  to  other  [lastures 
Hear  or  far,  they  must  perish  as  they  [)erish  fre([uently  in 
less-favoured  modern  days.  Nor  were  drawhacks  laeking 
in  the  best  of  times.  The  greed  or  the  earele.ssness  of 
iieighliours  or  rivals  higher  up  the  streams  might  preein[>t 
the  water  of  a  whole  settlement;  and  it  was  not  impossi- 
ble that  dams  might  Ihj  built  over  night  that  would  dry 
up  tiie  a(|ueducts  for  a  score  of  miles  below.  Always  and 
for  all  things  in  this  rich  and  eapricious  land  vigilanee 
and  alertness  were  the  first  essentials,  not  on  the  part  of 
individuals  so  much  as  on  the  part  of  the  whole  com- 
munity who  here  were  committed  to  common  action  and 
mutual  helpfulness  which  their  general  condition  other- 
wise did  not  eiusily  evoke. 

§  1805.  Such  or  the  like  was  the  chief  employment  of 
the  Hebrew  exiles  as  rooted  in  the  watercourses  which 
they  found  or  made.  Hut  the  Babylonian  canal  was 
something  more  than  a  giver  of  fertility.  It  was  also  a 
navigable  stream,  an  avenue  of  commerce  and  travel. 
Such  was  the  Kebar,  over  whose  surface  boats  and  barges 
moved  to  and  from  and  past  Tel-Abub.  To  some  extent, 
this  may  from  the  beginning  have  given  some  employment 
to  the  exiles;  at  any  rate  they  were  ultimately  involved 
in  it  with  the  development  of  the  district,  and  contril)- 
uted  their  quota  to  the  many  hands  jeciuired  to  man  and 
j)ropel  the  vessels.  Thus  an  essential  [)art  of  their  environ- 
ment was  the  river  craft  familiar  to  Babylonians,  who, 
from  the  scarcity  of  timber,  often  constructed  their  ves- 
sels of  lighter  materials.     Thus  there  were  seen  rafts  kept 


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CANAL  NAVIGATION 


BookX 


afloat  by  inflated  skins ;  ^  or  oblong  punts,  half  raft  and  half 
wherry,  made  of  hides  stretched  over  willow  branches ;  ^  or 
round  little  coracles,  the  modern  turadaa ;  or  canoe-shaped 
vessels,  often  attaining  to  the  dignity  of  barges,  either 
propelled  by  oars  or  towed  along  the  shore.^ 

§  1306.  There  is  room  for  plausible  conjecture  as  to 
what  became  of  the  "  carvers  and  joiners  "  (§  1275)  and 
the  artisans  in  general,  who  were  carried  away  in  the  first 
captivity  (2  K.  xxiv.  16).  Insomuch  as  the  chief  demand 
was  for  agricultural  labourers,  it  is  altogether  likely  that 
many  of  these  working-people  were  drafted  off  to  the  canals 
and  the  marshes.  For  the  remainder,  places  would  be  found 
in  various  factories,  especially  in  Babylon  (§  1273).  These 
were  naturally  kept  in  bondage,  though  not  necessarily  in 
perpetuity  (§  1280).*  After  a  time  they  would  be  undis- 
tinguishable  except  by  name  from  artisans  of  Babylonian 
descent.     Their  chief  disability  as  Hebrews  would  be  that 


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1  Illustrated  on  the  Assyrian  monuments.  They  were  used  for  many 
purposes  and  were  of  various  sizes,  from  the  simple  structures  required 
to  feiry  over  one  or  two  passengers,  to  the  larger  rafts  put  together  for 
the  transport,  in  sections,  over  large  rivers,  of  armies  on  the  march,  as 
by  Tiglathpileser  I,  Asshurna  Sirpal,  and  Shalmancser  II. 

2  As  described  minutely  by  Herodotus,  I,  194. 

8  On  the  modern  streams  of  Babylonia  the  most  characteristic  vessels, 
besides  the  tub-like  coracles,  are  the  large  boats,  averaging  about  thirty 
feet  in  length,  and  made  of  a  wooden  frame,  over  which  a  thick  matting 
of  closely  plaited  grass  or  reeds  is  placed,  secured  by  cords  of  bulrush,  the 
whole  being  thoroughly  pitched  with  melted  bitumen.  At  Hit,  one  1:  un- 
dred  miles  above  Babylon,  on  the  Euphrates,  there  is  a  ship  or  boat  yard. 
The  process  of  making  is  fully  described  in  the  diary  of  Dr.  W.  H.  Ward, 
of  the  Wolfe  expedition,  published  in  Nippur  as  an  appendix  to  Vol.  I 
(see  p.  367  f.,  and  cf.  Peters,  ib.  I,  161  f.).  For  modes  of  navigating  the 
Euphrates  and  Tigris,  cf.  Kaulen,  Assyrien  und  Bahylonieii,  p.  7  ff.,  where 
illustrations  are  given.  On  the  largest  strcjams,  but  scarcely  on  the  Kebar, 
were  still  more  capacious  vessels,  of  which  the  "  ark  "  of  the  Bible  and 
of  the  Babylonian  Flood  story  is  a  projection. 

*  Artisans  were  usually  slaves  in  all  ancient  countries  where  manufac- 
tures of  any  extent  were  carried  on.  Even  the  foremen  might  be  slaves. 
We  are  familiar  with  the  employment  of  slaves  in  Athens  as  armourers  and 
upholsterers.     Naturally,  only  the  masters  were  members  of  the  guilds. 


VHP 


Ch.  XIV,  §  1306      OTHER  GROUPS  OF  EXILES 


349 


they  could  not  easily  mingle  with  their  brethren  or  take 
an  active  part  in  the  affaire  of  the  remnant  of  Israel.  Yet 
we  must  not  lay  too  much  stress  on  these  disadvantages. 
After  all,  the  chief  factor  in  the  case  was  loyalty  and 
devotion  to  the  fatherland  and  its  institutions ;  and  the 
sequel  shows  that  at  length  many  from  all  classes  of  the 
exiles  took  part  in  the  restoration  of  Israel. 


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CHAPTER  XV 

THE  EXILES  AS  A  COMMUNITY 

§  1307.  The  relations  of  the  settlements  to  the  central 
government  are  not  definitely  known.  We  can  only  infer 
from  general  allusions  in  the  Bible  that  in  the  manage- 
ment of  their  affairs  as  a  people  they  were  left  pretty 
much  to  themselves.  The  king's  officers  who  directed  the 
march  to  the  banks  of  the  Kebar  were  replaced  there  by 
others,  who  disposed  of  the  persons  of  this  principal 
detachment  and  secured  their  orderly  settlement.  There- 
after royal  officers  had  to  exercise  a  general  supervision, 
make  a  periodical  inspection,  and  report  to  the  proper 
department  at  Babylon,  while  others  collected  as  regu- 
larly the  inevitable  imposts  from  the  landholders  and  ten- 
ants of  the  district.  As  the  settlement  was  an  outgrowth 
of  the  policy  of  Nebuchadrezzar,  we  may  assume  that  he 
kept  himself  informed  of  its  progress. 

§  1308.  As  everything  that  concerns  the  Great  King 
is  a  matter  of  biblical  interest,  it  touches  us  sympatheti- 
cally to  know  that  this  business  of  canal-making  and  of 
reclaiming  the  soil  of  his  country  was  one  of  the  things 
that  were  nearest  his  heart.  In  this  he  was  but  following 
in  the  path  of  the  most  patriotic  kings  of  Assyria  and  Baby- 
lonia, who  counted  it  one  of  their  chief  titles  to  honour 
that  they  had,  by  the  making  and  equipment  of  canals  and 
aqueducis,  enriched  and  blessed  their  subjects.  We  are 
perhaps  too  apt  to  regard  these  ancient  kings  as  mere 
selfish  conquerors,  and  to  forget  that  much  of  their  time 
was  spent  in  devising  means  for  the  upbuilding  of  their 

360 


Ch.  XV,  §  1310    THE   EXILES  AND  THE   NATION 


351 


country  by  the  tuts  of  peace.  The  very  names  ^  which 
they  bestowed  on  the  chief  watercouraes  reveal  tlieir  deep 
sense  of  the  life-giving  properties  of  the  streams,  and  their 
gratitude  to  the  gods  for  their  bounty  to  the  land  which 
was  held  to  be  their  peculiar  care.  Nor  will  their  piety 
seem  to  us  superstitious  or  ridiculous  when  we  remember 
that  these  "givers  of  life"  converted  into  a  blessing  to 
the  land  what  else  would  have  been,  as  it  once  was  and 
now  actually  is,  a  bringer  of  desolation  and  death.  A 
principal  result  of  our  inquiry  accordingly  is  that  we  have 
gained  a  conception  of  the  living  bond  of  interest  between 
the  humble  Hebrew  husbandmen  and  the  rulers  of  the  land. 
This  goes  far  to  explain  the  anomaly  given  in  the  fact  that 
these  exiles  survived  and  prospered  in  the  country  of  their 
conquerors  for  two  generations. 

§  1309.  For  the  question  of  the  internal  organization 
of  the  Hebrews  in  Babylonia  we  must  confine  ourselves  to 
the  larger  settlements,  to  which  was  left  the  possibility 
of  self-government.  And  the  first  thing  that  strikes  us  is 
the  fact  that  in  some  way  from  the  very  beginning  the 
solidarity  of  the  survivors  of  Israel  was  maintained. 
There  was  no  obliteration  of  any  large  number  at  any 
time.  There  was  communication  between  the  several 
sections  of  them  when  there  was  need  of  conference, 
always  of  course  by  the  leave  of  the  government  officials, 
who  were  intolerant  only  of  sedition,  and  with  the  con- 
sent of  the  employers  of  their  lalwur. 

§  1310.  What,  then,  was  the  internal  organization  of 
the  colony  or  colonies?     Fortunately,   we  may  give  at 


1  It  is  significant  of  the  lionour  in  wliicli  these  beneficent  streams  were 
held  that  each  of  them  had  a  name  and  character  of  its  own.  This  is 
shown,  for  example,  by  a  business  inscription  publislied  in  PCT.  IX., 
nr.  48  (cf.  p.  36  f.),  where  a  single  property  producing  a  very 
moderate  rent  is  described  minutely  as  lying  between  two  canals,  one  of 
them  beaiing  the  lordly  name  of  Sin,  and  the  other  called  iShilihtu,  or 
"outflow,"  a  name  kindred  in  form  and  meaning  with  the  "Siiiloah"  of 
Isa.  viii.  6  or  the  "  Siloam  "  of  John  ix.  7.  Compare  the  names  of  the 
greater  aqueducts  cited  by  Delitzsch  in  Par.  p.  187  £L 


ill 
m 


I 


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BM 


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362 


A  SIMPLE  GOVERNMENTAL  TYPE 


Book  X 


;  l„  ;  ■  -^'im' 


least  a  general  answer.  Our  preliminary  atudies  as  to  the 
development  of  Hebrew  society  have  shown  us  how  simple 
and  elastic  was  its  fundamental  structure.  The  com- 
munity that  so  long  maintained  itself  as  a  nation  in  Pal- 
estine was  now  reduced  to  its  essential  elements;  and  this 
was  effected  directly,  not  by  exile,  but  by  the  abolition  of 
the  kingdom.  We  have  to  eliminate  the  last  two  main 
stages  of  development.  First,  we  are  to  conceive  the 
Hebrews  in  Babylonia  as  being  without  king  and  nobles 
(536  f.),  and  next  as  having  discarded  the  administra- 
tive divisions  with  their  rulers  or  princes  (§  530  f.). 
The  doing  away  with  city  government  is  not  so  cardinal 
a  distinction  as  it  might  seem,  since  the  cities  were 
administered  virtually  on  the  same  principles  as  the  old 
tribal  communities,  that  is,  by  the  "ciders"  and  the 
family  chiefs  (§  486).  And  these  are  just  the  functiona- 
ries whom  we  find  referred  to  in  the  meagre  records  of 
the  time  and  people. 

§  1311.  That  a  great  deal  of  social  confusion  prevailed 
in  the  earlier  days  of  the  colony  must  be  taken  for  granted. 
It  was  the  reerection  of  a  community,  the  formation  of  a 
new  and  unique  social  organism,  that  then  went  on. 
But  here,  again,  we  must  not  exaggerate  the  difficulties 
or  suppose  that  the  changes  amounted  to  a  social  revolu- 
tion. In  the  large  first  deportation  very  many,  perhaps 
most,  of  the  families  were  left  intact  —  not  so  much  in 
the  interest  of  the  people  affected,  as  for  the  benefit  of  the 
land  to  be  cultivated.  And  where  the  old  heads  of  the 
family  groups  and  clans  did  not  survive,  new  ones  were 
readily  chosen,  the  very  disorder  of  the  settlement  making 
a  choice  imperative.  The  elders  also  would  take  their 
places,  as  in  the  times  of  old,  by  obvious  merit,  some 
simply  holding  over  from  the  Palestine  days,  and  others 
being  newly  elected.  Hence,  we  find  that  in  591  B.C. 
elders  act  in  a  full  representative  capacity  (Ez.  viii.  1; 
xiv.  1;  XX.  1).  So  much  autonomy,  indeed,  was  granted 
to  the  community,  and  so  great  was  the  influence  of  the 


Ch.  XV,  §  1312 


AN   IDEAL  OF   ROYALTY 


353 


heads  of  the  people,  that  we  find  some  few  of  them  early 
in  the  liistoiy  of  the  colony  planning  sedition  and  able  to 
carry  their  measures  to  the  danger-point  (cf.  §  11G9). 

§  1812.  On  the  whole,  then,  the  Hebrew  society  held 
well  together  in  exile.  The  fidelity  with  which  the 
family  records  and  genealogies  were  kept  was  both  cause 
and  effect  of  this  social  survival.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
there  were  leading  men  who  exercised  a  strong  moral 
influence,  and  perhaps  direct  supervision,  not  merely  in 
their  own  several  communities,  but  over  the  exiles  as  a 
wliole.  Naturally,  these  had  a  recognized  civil  position, 
and  were  not  merely  great  prophets  or  priests,  like  Eze- 
kiel.  A  singular  evidence  of  persistent  loyalty  and  patri- 
otism is  the  figure  of  the  king  or  "prince  "  ^  as  head  of  the 
nation,  which  was  kept  before  the  minds  of  the  people  all 
through  the  captivity,  until  at  length  the  dream  was,  in 
a  measure,  realized  in  the  person  of  Sheshbazzar  and 
Zerubbabel  (Ezra  i.  ff.).  It  was  out  of  the  question, 
however,  that  there  could  be  any  sort  of  magisterial  head- 
ship to  the  exiles  as  a  whole,  this  office  being  purely 
theoretical  and  ideal. 


1  For  the  period  of  the  Exile  itself,  notice  the  usage  of  I'^z.  xlv.  7  ff.  and 
xlvi.  2  ff.,  and  cf.  vii.  27,  xii.  10.  The  two  passages  last-named  are  inter- 
esting as  showing  how  the  language  of  Ezekiel  wis  influenced  by  his  sur- 
roundings. In  Assyrian  the  word  for  "king"  (sarru)  is  Hebrew  for 
"prince,"  and  the  word  for  "prince"  (malku)  Hebrew  for  "king." 
Compare  the  play  on  the  words  in  Isa.  x.  8. 


i''i 


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f 


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I 


Book  XI 

HEBREWS,   CHALDEANS,  AND  PERSIANS 


p;    1; 


oj^o 


CHAPTER  I 


MORALS  AND  RELIGION  OP  ISRAEL  IN  EXILE 


■  ■'&■■ 


§  1313.  What  next  concerns  us  is  the  progress  of 
the  exiles  in  their  new  home.  Here  we  must  narrow 
somewhat  the  scope  of  our  inquiry.  What  was  formerly- 
most  important  to  Israel  now  becomes  more  vital  and 
significant  than  ever.  That  for  which  Israel  was  born 
(Isa.  xliv.  1  f.,  21,  24;  cf.  xliii.  7),  made  into  a  nation, 
find  honoured  with  the  divine  favour  and  love  (Isa.  xli. 
8  f. ;  xliii.  3  f.),  is  now  to  be  made  alone  conspicuous. 
All  else  that  marked  Israel  as  a  people  —  everything  that 
was  political  and  secular,  and  even  what  was  officially 
religious  —  was  now  stripped  off.  Only  "  Israel  "  itself 
was  left,  to  test  the  voluntary  principle  pure  and  simple 
in  religion  and  morals. 

§  1314.  To  the  making  of  the  new  Israel  the  exter- 
nal conditions  contributed  mightily.  We  naturally  think 
first  of  the  influence  exercised  upon  the  exiles  by  tlieir 
physical  environment.  How  different  from  the  old  sur- 
roundings was  all  that  now  met  the  eye!  In  the  land 
of  Judah  hills  and  valleys  formed  the  constant  outlook. 
Almost  the  only  plains  were  the  bottoms  of  mountain 
gorges.  The  only  streams  were  mountain  brooks,  or  the 
deep-running  Jordan,  whose  overflow  went  to  the  profit  of 

354 


M 


Cii.  I,  §  1316 


PHYSICAL   ENVIRONMENT 


S66 


reeds  and  jungles,  and  which  lost  itself  in  a  lake  of  salt. 
It  was,  after  all,  a  poor  country,  in  spite  of  its  vine-clad 
slopes  and  its  olive-crowned  heights  —  a  land  best  fitted 
for  humble  shepherd  folk  with  small  flocks  of  small  cattle 
and  a  hand-to-mouth  subsistence.  Here  they  beheld  an 
illimitable  plain,  almost  a  dead  level.  Yet  it  had  not  the 
dull  uniformity  of  the  great  desert  which  in  the  old  land 
they  had  seen  from  afar,  and  which  they  had  just  traversed 
for  many  a  weary  mile.  A  naked  plain,  unrelieved  by 
nature's  kindly  green  or  the  incidental  gatherings  of 
human  kind  would  have  been  intolerable,  and  would  have 
tended  to  the  degeneration  and  not  to  the  regeneration  of 
Israel.  Even  as  it  was,  the  aspect  of  the  new  land  must, 
by  unconscious  contrast,  have  brought  many  a  tear  to 
homesick  exiles,  as  they  looked  westward  over  the  river 
and  the  Arabian  waste  and  fancied  that  they  saw  in  some 
sunset  mirage  the  mountains  that  were  round  about  Jeru- 
salem. But  the  land  of  their  banishment,  level  as  it  was, 
proved  to  be  the  very  reverse  of  monotonous.  Wherever 
they  looked,  to  north  or  west  or  south,  they  beheld  the 
mounds  of  cities  great  and  small,  the  homes  or  the  monu- 
ments of  multitudes  of  men.  Nor  was  there  lack  of 
variety  in  physical  features.  What  the  mountains  and 
valleys  were  to  Palestine  the  rivers  and  canals  were  to 
Babylonia.  Nay,  they  were  ever  so  much  more;  for  they 
were  the  source  and  the  chosen  symbols  of  such  wealth 
and  prosperity  as  the  exiles  had  never  seen  or  imagined. 
§  1315.  The  effect  of  such  an  environment  upon  the 
new  inhabitants  was  unique  and  profound.  Insensibly 
they  adjusted  themselves  to  their  surroundings,  and 
gained  from  them  deep  and  lasting  impressions.  One 
sphere  of  observation  was  of  special  importance.  In  the 
home-land  the  Hebrews  had  no  conception  of  imperialism 
except  from  the  effects  upon  themselves  or  their  neigh- 
boui-s  of  the  power  of  a  real  empire.  Nationality,  in 
the  larger  sense,  was  impossible  in  Palestine  because 
the  country  was   physically  so  broken  and  diversified. 


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S5fl 


LARGER   POLITICAL  CONCEPTIONS 


Book  XI 


Here,  on  the  far-streteliing  plain,  tribes  and  cities  were 
welded  together,  and  from  the  unified  kingdom  as  a  centre 
a  levelling  and  combinatory  influence  had  gone  forth  over 
almost  all  the  known  world.  The  distinction  between  a 
peo[)le  and  a  nation,  hardly  possible  to  them  before,  now 
became  quite  familiar,  and  there  grew  within  them  a 
sense  of  the  ineffectiveness  of  the  squabbling  communi- 
ties among  which  they  had  run  their  career  as  compared 
with  the  empire  into  whose  centre  they  were  flung. 

§  1316.  Another  and  an  analogous  mental  departure  of 
vital  moment  was  induced  by  the  thought  of  their  own  polit- 
ical history  as  contrasted  with  the  growth  of  the  colossal 
world-kingdom.  Always  loyal  to  their  country's  destiny 
in  the  past,  always  ambitious  and  sanguine,  the  slightest 
revival  of  patriotic  hope  now  brought  to  them  visions  of  a 
dominion  not  like  to  the  narrow  domain  of  the  kings  of 
Israel  and  Judah,  but  like  to  that  of  the  king  of  kings. 
At  least  the  controlling  minds  among  the  people  were 
influenced  by  such  associations,  which,  to  be  sure,  acted 
in  any  case  but  slowly  and  subtly. 

§  1317.  We  are  more  particularly  concerned,  in  the 
meantime,  with  the  causes  which  promoted  obviously  the 
advancement  of  the  people  as  a  whole.  To  get  any  in- 
telligent notion  of  their  progress  we  should  have  to  con- 
sider these  causes  as  operating  during  a  series  of  years  or 
during  the  lifetime  of  the  first  generation  of  the  exiles. 
Recalling  what  was  said  of  the  purpose  for  which  the 
exiles  were  planted  beside  the  Kebar,  we  perceive  that 
their  very  employment  there  contributed  to  make  them 
a  community  such  as  they  had  not  been  in  Palestine. 
There  the  chief  unifying  bonds  had  been  governmental 
and  ceremonial.  Both  of  these  were  now  seriously 
impaired  by  reason  of  the  destruction  of  the  kingdom  and 
of  the  temple  (§  1313).  It  was  only  a  new  social  era 
that  could  offer  similarity  of  occupation  to  any  large 
section  of  the  people.  And  here  most  of  the  shepherds, 
the  vine-dressers,  and  the  olive-growers   became  tillers 


tt. 


Book  XI 

;ie8  were 
a  centre 
)rth  over 
itween  a 
ore,  now 
them  a 
jnimuni- 
ompared 

arture  of 
iViipol  it- 
colossal 
.  destiny 
slightest 
ions  of  a 
kings  of 
f  kings, 
lie  were 
I'e,  acted 

in  the 
usly  the 
any  in- 
to con- 
years  or 
3  exiles, 
lich  the 
ive  that 
le  them 
destine, 
nmental 
eriously 
lom  and 
cial  era 
ly  large 
jpherds, 
i  tillers 


Cii.  1,  §  1320 


EMPLOYMENTS  AND   MORALS 


357 


.m 


1 


of  the  soil,  like  those  to  ino  manner  born.  The  nearer 
view  which  we  have  gained  of  IJabylonian  agriculture 
(§  1301  ff.)  shows  how  it  could  become  a  factor  of  prime 
order  in  the  development  of  character. ^ 

§  1318.  In  our  studies  of  the  inner  development  of 
Israel  one  conclusion  stood  out  with  8[)ecial  prominence. 
Apart  from  influences  of  belief  and  worship  it  was  the 
habit  of  life,  the  social  environment,  and  the  daily  avoca- 
tions, that  were  the  great  determining  moral  factors.  The 
good  and  evil  of  the  common  life  of  the  Hebrews  in  Pal- 
estine before  the  Exile  were  educed  very  largely  through 
the  stress  and  strain  of  social  antagonisms  through  the 
relations  of  the  master  and  the  slave,  of  the  creditor  and 
the  debtor,  of  the  landed  proprietor  and  the  labourer,  of 
the  judge  and  the  suitor  (§  571  ff.).  We  are  now  in  a 
l^osition  to  illustrate  these  observations  by  comparison 
with  the  new  conditions  in  Babylonia. 

§  1319.  In  considering  the  employments  of  the  exiles 
in  their  adopted  home  (§  1290  ff.)  we  have  learned 
that  their  occupation  brought  them  into  contact  with  a 
system  of  business  vast  in  itself  and  having  many  con- 
nections. Thus  not  only  was  a  new  direction  given 
to  their  practical  energies,  but  their  work  was  uniform, 
involving  cooperation  and  minimizing  conflicting  inter- 
ests. Moreover,  this  occupation  was  the  main  source  of 
the  national  wealth  of  Babylonia  itself,  and  the  perma- 
nent calling  of  most  of  the  inhabitants,  consolidating 
their  industrial  and  social  life,  and  limiting  their  internal 
movements.  The  contrast  with  the  conditions  of  the  old 
life  in  Palestine,  and  especially  in  Judah,  is  obvious  and 
need  not  be  exhibited  at  length.  The  moral  consequences 
of  the  change  were  effected  somewhat  as  follows. 

§  1320.  According  to  the  testimony  of  the  prophets, 
Israel  was  being  inwardlj'  and  outwardly  ruined  by  three 
great  causes  connected  with  the  moral  life  of  the  people. 

*  Cf.  Peiser,  Keilschriftliche  Actenstucke  aus  babyloniachen  Stddten 
(1889),  p.  viii  f. 


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MORAL  EDUCATION  OF  BUSINESS 


Rook  X[ 


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These  were  sins  of  sensual  indulgence,  of  cruelty  and 
oppression,  of  treachery  and  falsehood.  Of  these  the  last 
sort  of  evil  was  most  pervasive  and  dangerous,  because  it 
was  involved  in  and  promoted  by  the  other  two  classes. 
But  it  was,  in  a  sense,  encouraged  by  the  habits  and  tra- 
ditions of  the  business  life  characteristic  of  the  ago  and 
country.  Industrial  and  commercial  morality  is  a  neces- 
sary step  in  the  moral  evolution  of  any  community,  and  no 
considerable  state  has  ever  been  sound  and  enduring  with- 
out it  (§  990).  Lying  and  cheating  in  sale  and  barter  are 
universal  in  small  communities  everywhere.  They  are 
checked,  in  some  degree,  where  the  number  of  partici- 
pants in  the  various  lines  of  business  is  large  enough  co 
make  covenant-breaking  expensive  and  dangerous,  and 
where  the  defrauding  of  the  poor  or  weak  by  the  rich  or 
powerful  would  throw  the  wheels  of  commerce  out  of 
gear.  Lying  is  so  natural,  easy,  and  apparently  profit- 
able, that  where  the  religious  motive  is  wanting,  it  is 
abated  only  when  and  where  it  becomes  unpleasant  to  the 
liar.  In  earlier  society  nearly  all  morality  being  social, 
the  practice  of  honesty,  slowly  and  preeminently  gaining 
ground  and  becoming  an  understood  necessity  in  public 
and  business  transactions,  was  recognized  at  first  in  the 
courts  of  the  local  judges,  and  was  at  length  made  the  basis 
of  statutory  law.  In  Israel,  which  had  the  additional 
sanction  of  the  religion  of  Jehovah,  and  of  legislation, 
more  or  less  practical,  given  in  his  name,  honesty  never 
became  the  general  practice,  either  in  private  or  public 
life,  till  after  the  prophetic  era  (§  953,  970).  Social 
integrity  being  alien  to  the  community  as  a  whole  and  to 
the  ruling  classes,  the  prophets,  who  never  succeeded  in 
any  case  in  breaking  the  force  of  social  custom,  put  their 
protest  on  record  and  left  the  case  with  Jehovah.  Their 
vindication  and  the  enforcement  of  their  lessons  came  in 
the  strangest  fashion.  Where  precept  upon  precept  and 
line  upon  line  had  failed,  their  people  were  taught  by  men 
of  strange  lips  and  of  another  tongue  (Isa.  xxviii.  10  f.). 


Book  XI 

elty  and 
5  the  livst 
ecause  it 

classes, 
and  tia- 
age  and 

a  neces- 
r,  and  no 
ng  with- 
»arter  are 
riiey  are 

partici- 
iiough  CO 
:)us,  tand 
e  rich  or 
3  out  of 
y  profit- 
ig,  it  is 
tit  to  the 
f  social, 

gaining 
1  public 
t  in  the 
the  basis 
iditional 
islation, 
ty  never 
V  public 
Social 
e  and  to 
jeded  in 
ut  their 
Their 
came  in 
ept  and 

by  men 

10  f.). 


Ch.  I,  §  i:i22 


PROPERTY  AND   MORALITY 


359 


§  1321.  Wherever  there  is  landed  property  there  is  a 
potential  germ  of  business  morality,  since  security  in  the 
possession  and  transfer  of  such  property  is  the  foundation  of 
settled  life.  Accordingly,  we  find  that  while  oppression, 
treachery,  and  fraud  were  still  rife  in  Judah,  ample  legal 
safeguards  were  thrown  around  the  titles  to  real  estate. 
Thus,  immediately  before  the  final  captivity  a  ci>ntra(jt 
was  formally  made  in  duplicate,  signed  and  sealed,  and 
subscribed  by  witnesses,  which  provides  for  the  sale  of  a 
small  portion  of  land  near  Jerusalem  (Jer.  xxxii. ;  cf. 
§  1225).  The  terms  emploj'ed  suggest  that  the  usages  in 
detail  were  borrowed  from  Babylonian  procedure.  But 
this  indirect  allusion  to  the  judicial  forms  of  the  great 
commercial  community  gives  but  a  faint  suggestion  of  the 
minute  and  careful  provision  that  was  made  in  Babylonia 
for  the  guarding  of  the  rights  of  the  parties  to  any  busi- 
ness transaction  Avhatever.^ 

§  1322.  Among  the  cuneiform  records,  the  so-called 
contract  tablets  are  the  most  numerous.  They  represent 
a  period  of  over  two  thousand  years,  and  are  numbered 
literally  by  thousands. *    Those  of  them  which  have  been 

^  We  have  the  testimony  of  Nlcolaus  of  Damascus  (in  MUller's  Frag- 
menta  Historicornm  Onecorum,  Fr.  131)  that  tlie  Babylonians  "practise 
straiglitforwardness "  (do-fcoOo-t  eMdrriTa) :  quoted  by  Rawlinson,  P^M. 
"  Fourth  Monarcliy,"  ch.  iii. 

2  What  has  been  published  of  business  documents  is  only  a  small  part 
of  those  alrCiady  excavated.  To  the  publications  mentioned  in  note  to  §  422 
are  to  be  added :  Strassmaier's  Bnhijl.  Texte  continued,  containing  inscrip- 
tions of  the  reigns  of  Nebuchadrezzar,  Cyrus,  Cambyses,  and  Darius  I 
(1889-1893)  ;  PCT.  IX  (1898)  by  Hilprecht  and  Clay:  business  docu- 
ments from  Nippur  of  the  time  of  Artaxerxes  I.  The  last  named  is  of 
great  palaeographic  value.  It  also  contains  transliterated  and  translated 
specimens,  and  a  concordance  of  proper  names,  with  an  introduction. 
For  the  general  reader  the  most  instructive  discussions  are  those  of 
Kohler  and  Peiser  in  linhyl.  Vortrage  and  in  a  series  of  essays  issued  by 
them  (1890  ft.)  in  which,  among  other  things,  an  attempt  is  made  to  show 
that  many  of  the  ideas  of  Roman  law  proceed  from  Babylonia.  Frag- 
ments of  old  Babylonian  laws  of  the  age  of  Chammurabi  are  published  and 
translated  with  commentary  by  Meissner  in  BA.  Ill,  493-523.  KB.  IV, 
2\'xte  juridischen  und  geschafllichen  Inhalts,  is  a  selection  of  documents 


■'il 


^i! 


,  > 


i    il 


■I  4.\ 


360 


LAW  AND  USAGE   OF  CONTRACTS 


Book  XI 


I:ii 


i.  :■     '  !■ 


ii  ■■ 
.  ■( 

I-' 


^M'! 


I* 

|i 
11  ' 


most  st^ulied  aiul  are  best  understood  belong  to  the  Chal- 
daean  epoch,  with  which  we  are  now  occupied,  and  the 
early  Persian  immediately  following.  Taken  altogether 
they  bear  telling  testimony  to  the  antiquity,  permanence, 
and  complexity  of  the  Babylonian  business  and  juridical 
systems.  A  few  points  may  be  instanced  to  show  what 
the  Hebrews  had  to  learn  in  adai)ting  themselves  to  the 
necessities  of  settled  life  in  their  eastern  home.  Notice, 
on  the  one  side,  the  entire  absence  of  any  system  of  credit 
in  ancient  Israel.  A  debt  was  the  sign  of  helpless  pov- 
erty (cf.  §  575).  If  interest  was  to  be  paid,  it  was  apt  to 
be  ruinous  usury,  so  that  all  taking  of  interest  was  for- 
bidden by  the  lawgivers.  The  only  kind  of  security  for 
a  loan  was  the  giving  of  a  pledge,  either  by  the  debtor  or 
by  a  friend  in  his  behalf.  The  non-payment  of  a  debt 
involved,  as  a  rule,  the  enslavement  of  the  debtor  or  his 
children.  These  semi-barbarous  conditions  were  naturally 
both  effect  and  cause  of  social  instability  (§  584  ff.). 

§  1323.  Now  let  us  turn  to  Babylonian  rule  and  pro- 
cedure. Among  this  people  the  primitive  conception  that 
the  creditor  had  a  claim  upon  the  person  of  the  debtor, 
while  leaving  traces  in  the  current  forms  of  stipulation,^ 
Avas  superseded  by  the  view  that  the  creditor  was  entitled 
simply  to  the  money  due,  along  with  interest  or  a  fine  for 
persistent  non-payment.  The  borrower  or  debtor  might 
have  a  credit  with  an  agent  who  could  settle  on  his  behalf. 
On  these  principles  there  was  developed  a  system  of  finan- 
cial concerns,  which  to  a  commercial  agency  added  the 
essential  functions  of  our  modern  banks.  Extraordinary 
care  was  taken  to  secure  from  any  subsequent  claim  the 

of  all  periods  transliterated  and  translated  by  the  competent  hand  of 
Peiser.  Alonpj  with  them  should  be  read  the  treatise  of  V.  Marx,  "  Die 
Stellung  der  Frauen  in  Babylonien"  in  BA.  IV,  1-77  (1890)  with  reniarl<8 
appended  by  Delltzsch.  L.  Dennith  and  E.  Ziemer  give  transliterations 
and  translations  with  notes  of  one  hundred  texts  of  the  times  of  Cyrus 
and  Cambyses  in  BA.  Ill,  303-492  (1808).  See  also  Sayce,  Babylonians 
rnd  Assyrians,  Life  and  Custotns  (1899),  chs.  vi  and  vii. 
1  See  Kohler  in  Peiser's  Bah'jlonische  Vortrage,  p.  xxxiv. 


Cii.  I,  §  1324     CHARACTER  OF  LOCAL  BUSINESS 


361 


debtor  once  freed  from  legal  obligation.  The  rate  of 
interest,  usually  twenty  per  cent  per  annum,  was  fixed 
if  not  by  law  at  least  by  usage.  It  was  slightly  greater 
than  that  of  Athens  in  the  time  of  Demosthenes.  With- 
drawal from  bargains,  and  business  agreements  general  1}', 
was  made  a  matter  of  peculiar  hardship.  Nothing  speaks 
more  clearly  for  the  business  seriousness  of  this  great 
people  than  the  formal  deprecation  of  bad  faith  by  the 
parties  to  any  sort  of  contract.  In  earlier  times  the  curse 
of  the  gods  was  denounced  upon  the  covenant-breaker. 
Later,  a  binding  statement  was  frequently  added  in  the 
instrument  to  the  effect  that  the  agreement  would  not  be 
reversed.  When,  however,  the  contract  waa  for  any 
reason  annulled,  the  dissident  party  paid  at  a  fixed  rate 
of  interest  for  his  release.  The  strict  observance  of 
these  principles  contributed  as  much  as  anything  else 
to  the  maintenance  of  Babylonian  domestic  institutions 
through  all  political  and  dynastic  changes. 

§  1324.  Babylonia  being  an  agricultural  country,  a  large 
proportion  of  these  business  documents  are  deeds  of  sale 
or  notes  of  hand  relative  to  products  of  the  soil.  Corn, 
dates,  date-wine,  and  onions  are  mentioned  with  special 
frequency.  Very  often  a  tenant  pays  the  rent  of  his  land 
in  kind,  according  to  a  minute  specification  of  the  amount 
made  in  advance  of  the  harvest.  Sometimes  there  is  merely 
an  obligation  to  furnisli  a  certain  quantity  of  food  or  drink 
at  a  stated  time.  Cattle  also  figure  in  the  contracts.  A 
plantation  may  be  mortgaged  as  security  for  the  payment 
of  a  certain  amount  of  its  yield  during  a  given  year.  Cul- 
tivated and  waste  lands  on  the  banks  of  a  canal  are  leased 
for  a  long  term  of  years  ^  with  the  buildings  erected  there- 
upon. Trained  oxen  with  their  implements  of  irrigation 
are  hired,^  along  with  a  quantity  of  barley-seed. 


41 


i    ! 


III 


>  t 


:  I' 

;■  t 

^    ;  '11 

I  1  " 


':i  , 


.1 

i 

i 


1  Sixty  years  in  PCT.  IX,  nr.  48  (§  1308,  note). 

*  By  three  brothers  for  three  years  in  PCT.  IX,  nr.  49,  transliterated 
and  translated,  p.  39. 


362 


SLAVES  AS  APPRENTICES 


Book  XI 


ii,:  f  ,i:i 


!:■   .M'ii 


§  1325.  Such  was  the  school  for  business  training 
afforded  to  the  Hebrews  in  captivity,  as  they  gradually 
adapted  themselves  to  their  new  surroundings  and  their 
proper  employments,  as  they  became  assimilated  in  outward 
conditions  to  the  native  population,  and  began  to  compete 
successfully  with  those  rivals  when  their  business  standing 
was  once  established.  Their  submission  to  those  exacting 
requirements  which  for  ages  had  closed  the  way  to  every 
talent  except  energy  and  educated  skill,  and  had  made 
difficult  the  acquiring  of  sudden  wealth  or  unlawful 
gain,  was  itself  a  priceless  and  essential  moral  discipline. 
We  must  think  of  them  not  as  unwilling  guests  or  as  tran- 
sient occupants  of  the  land,  but  as  having  at  length  fol- 
lowed the  saving  counsel  of  their  martyred  friend,  to  seek 
homes  for  themselves  in  the  country  of  their  exile,  and  to 
aid  in  its  development  and  prosperity  (§  1168). 

§  1326.  A  decisive  change  in  the  condition  of  most  of 
the  exiles  was  made  when  they  passed  from  slavery  into 
freedom.  The  system  of  Babylonian  slavery  was,  as  we 
have  seen,  favourable  to  such  an  attainment.  Special 
features  seem  to  have  been  particularly  helpful :  for  in- 
stance, the  custom  of  apprenticing  slaves  for  a  fixed  term 
of  years  to  masters  of  one  trade  or  another  (§  1280).  The 
conditions  were  specified  with  great  exactness,  with  a 
heavy  fine  for  either  party  who  should  break  the  agree- 
ment.^ We  learn  from  this  usage  how  the  owner  was  eager 
to  increase  the  value  to  himself  of  his  human  property. 

1  An  instructive  Babylonian  contract  of  the  time  of  Cyrus  —  the  contin- 
uation of  tlie  social  regime  now  under  consideration  —  is  explained  by 
Demuth  in  BA.  iii,  418  f.  A  certain  lady  binds  over  her  slave  to  a 
master-weaver  for  the  term  of  five  years,  she  to  feed  and  clothe  the  appren- 
tice during  that  period.  If  the  master  fails  to  teach  him  properly  within 
this  time,  he  is  to  make  good  the  deficiency  by  paying  what  the  slave 
would  otherwise  have  earned  by  his  toil.  A  half-mina  (about  S22)  is 
the  penalty  on  either  side  for  breach  of  the  contract.  Similar  docu- 
ments are  published  (ibid.  p.  420-422)  relating  to  apprenticeship  to  other 
occupations,  one  of  which  is  that  of  a  stone-cutter,  the  term  in  this 
instance  being  four  years. 


Book  XI 


Cii.  I,  §  1328 


RESTRICTIONS  AND  LIMITS 


363 


But  the  advantages  to  the  slave  were  equally  evident. 
Among  these  were  the  chances  of  his  bettering  his  estate 
after  he  should  become  master  of  the  trade. 

§  1327.  We  may  thus  see  in  the  business  and  juridi- 
cal systems  of  the  Babylonians  a  moral  agent  of  great 
value,  working  gradually  but  surely  among  the  exiles, 
promoting  their  self-respect  and  ambition,  and  their 
advancement  generally.  That  we  may  better  estimate 
its  actual  influence,  certain  observations  should  be  made 
at  this  point.  First,  all  classes  of  the  colonists  were  not 
equally  benefited  by  these  Babylonian  institutions.  The 
sequel  shows  that  while  many  Hebrews  rose  to  influence 
and  dignity  very  many  also  remained  dependent  or  ser- 
vile. It  was  apparently  this  class  that  furnished  most  of 
the  population  of  Jerusalem  under  the  Persians.  Again, 
such  a  moral  education  must  be  conceived  of  as  affecting 
the  Hebrews  not  merely  during  the  Babylonian  but  in  the 
Persian  period.  Certainly  the  most  substantial  of  the 
Hebrew  people  remained  in  Babylonia  after  the  conquest 
by  Cyrus,  and  it  was  they  who  gave  to  the  restored  Jew- 
ish community  for  the  first  two  centuries  its  'aoral  as  well 
as  material  backing. 

§  1328.  Further,  while  such  moral  improvement  as 
was  effected  by  Babylonian  influence  was  indispensable  to 
the  progress  of  Israel,  the  influence  thus  extended  was  not 
of  itself  a  thorough-going  instrument  of  reform.  Veracity 
and  honesty  in  business  are  rather  an  essential  stage  or 
condition  in  the  saving  of  a  people  than  a  means  of  its  sal- 
vation. The  followers  of  Confucius  are,  it  is  true,  much 
more  likely  to  be  christianized  than  those  of  Mohammed, 
for  the  reason  that  moral  teaching  pure  and  simple  is  better 
than  theological  teaching  pure  and  simple ;  but  the  moral- 
ity of  the  Confucian  theory  and  practice  has  not  saved 
China  morally.  What  Israel  learned  from  Babylonia 
helped  it  towards  larger  and  truer  views  of  the  practical 
duties  of  life,  and  a  wider  and  juster  conception  of  the 
world  and  of  its  own  place  in  the  world's  future.     Beyond 


■'if  3 

m 

m 


.hi- 

-*:  j-j 

■■■  -hjA  I 

V: ! 


ll"- 


m 


:v 


%'W> 


864 


THE   SIN  OF  LICENTIOUSNESS 


Book  XI 


F :  i 


^r     ir 


this,  as  a  moral  environment,  its  educative  influence  was 
not  directly  beneficial. 

§  1329.  How  then  were  the  exiles  otherwise  affected 
by  what  they  saw  and  heard  in  Babylonia?  There  were 
certain  Babylonian  institutions  noxious  in  themselves 
which  yet  afforded  a  wholesome  discipline  to  the  Hebrew 
aliens.  These  wei'e  vitally  bound  up  with  the  religion 
of  the  country,  and  they  told  upon  the  religious  as  well 
as  the  moral  sentiments  of  the  colonists.  This  twofold 
relation  was  at  once  the  danger  and  the  safeguard  of 
Israel.  The  chief  sources  of  peril  were  sexual  immorality 
and  idolatry.  Within  the  sphere  of  the  latter,  as  being 
closely  akin  to  false  worship,  we  may  include  magical 
superstition  for  which  Babylonia  was  notorious,  and  which 
had  already  played  a  part  in  Hebrew  social  and  religious 
history  (§  858,  1199). 

§  1330.  Israel's  chief  safeguard  against  licentiousness 
was  the  religion  of  Jehovah.  It  was  so  foreign  to  the 
community  of  Jehovah's  people  that  unchaste  men  and 
women  were  called  "  strange "  or  illegitimate.  This 
notion  was  intensified  by  the  direct  encouragement  and 
patronage  of  sexual  indulgence  by  the  most  influential 
of  foreign  religions.  The  true  leligious  teachers  in  Israel 
also  made  it  a  social  evil  as  being  a  sin  against  one's  neigh- 
bour (Ex.  XX.  17).  Sexual  vice  is  generally  but  little  re- 
strained except  when  it  is  held  to  be  not  merely  wrong  but 
irreligious.  Neither  regard  for  the  interests  of  society,  nor 
philosophical  reasoning  as  to  its  essential  hurtfulness,  can 
greatly  avail  anywhere  against  the  impetuosity  of  passion. 
There  is  in  truth  but  one  all-sufficient  and  universal  reason 
why  unchastity  is  wicked  —  that  it  is  a  form  of  selfishness, 
and  always  involves  a  disregard  of  the  rights  of  our  fellow- 
beings.  Even  the  least  frequent  offender  must  fairly 
admit  that  one  at  least  of  the  participants  is  degraded  or 
depreciated.  This  of  necessity  involves  a  lack  of  chivalry 
on  the  part  of  the  other,  and  finally  his  moral  self- 
surrender.     But  it  is  only  under  the  influence  direct  or 


Cit.  I,  §  1332  CHECKS  AGAINST  ADULTERY 


365 


indirect  of  religion  that  a  saving  regard  for  our  fellow- 
mortals  is  awakened  and  maintained.  We  may  ascribe 
such  regard  to  a  "  religion  of  humanity  "  when  we  will. 
But  in  the  history  of  human  society  the  restraining 
power  has  been  found  at  its  strongest  and  purest  in  the 
religion  of  the  Bible.  Proof  is  furnished  by  the  career 
of  the  Hebrew  people  themselves.  That  unchastity  was 
very  prevalent  in  Israel  up  to  the  Exile  is  shown  partly 
by  the  testimony  of  protesting  prophets  (as  far  as  Ez. 
xxxiii.  26)  and  partly  by  the  prevalence  of  "strange" 
religious  rites  of  which  such  a  form  of  immorality  was 
an  essential  and  constant  feature  (cf.  Deut.  xxiii.  18). 
Alter  the  Exile,  when  the  noxious  cults  had  ceased  to 
prevail,  little  complaint  is  heard. 

§  1331.  At  least  one  form  of  immorality  was  guarded 
against  with  special  care  by  the  Babylonians.  Adultery 
on  the  part  of  the  wife  was,  from  the  days  of  the  earliest 
to  those  of  the  latest  legislation,  punished  with  death,  yet 
desertion  of  the  wife  by  the  liusband  entailed  merely  the 
payment  of  a  reasonable  money  compensation. ^  There 
was  also  a  certain  discrimination  in  old  Hebrew  law, 
according  to  which  an  adulterer  was  not  punished  for 
the  offence  against  his  own  wife,  but  for  that  against  the 
injured  husband  (see  Deut.  xxii.  22  ff.).  Indeed,  there 
was  not  much  theoretical  difference  in  this  sphere  of  juris- 
prudence throughout  the  ancient  East.  All  the  more 
emphasis  must  accordingly  be  laid  upon  the  moral  and 
religious  training  of  the  chosen  people. 

§  1332.  Wifely  fidelity  was  thus  well  conserved  in 
Babylonia.      But,   on   the   other  hand,   prostitution   was 


Viilf 


i 


;  /it 
i'i 


'i'i 


r  !f 


I, '," 


m 


iSeeVR,  25,  1-7  ah  (AL*,  p.  131)  for  early  Babylonian  usage  (cf. 
Delitzsch  in  BA.  IV,  85  f.),  and  for  the  time  of  Nebuchadrezzar  II,  see 
the  marriage  contract  published  by  Strassmaier,  and  exphiined  by  Marx, 
BA.  IV,  7.  In  the  former  instance  the  unfaithful  wife  was  to  be  thrown 
into  a  river  or  canal,  and  the  husbcand  to  pay  a  half-mina  of  silver ;  in  the 
latter  the  wife  was  to  be  slain  with  an  iron  dagger,  and  the  husband  to  pay 
six  silver  minas. 


Pi    I 

m 

W  i 


I   !0^ 


■l-^ 


'  ;i  :^M 


- !               1 

m^ii   iiii 

366 


BABYLONIAN  PROSTITUTION 


Book  XI 


extensive  and  fashionable.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  indi- 
rectly but  greatly  promoted  by  the  social  system.  One  of 
the  most  numerous  classes  of  the  contract  tablets  are  the 
marriage  covenants,*  in  which  the  principal  matter  is  the 
settlement  of  the  amount  of  the  dowry  with  strict  engage- 
ments for  its  payment  under  carefully  stipulated  penalties 
in  view  of  possible  withdrawal.  Marriage  was  thus  sel- 
dom a  matter  of  sentiment.  The  consequences  in  the 
depreciation  of  female  virtue  were  what  they  have  been 
everywhere  else  where  marriage  has  been  made  a  con- 
venience. Again,  in  the  cities  of  Babylonia  prostitution 
was  encouraged  by  a  religious  sanction,  which  also  gave 
countenance  and  character  to  the  usage,  even  when  it 
was  carried  on  professionally  and  publicly  ^  apart  from 
the  associations  of  religion.  But  when  such  indulgences 
took  the  aspect  of  sacrifices  to  the  goddess  of  Nature 
(cf.  §  1188  f.),  they  were  immensely  promoted  by  official 
patronage.  The  fees  received  by  the  female  votaries  as 
servant-maids  of  their  respective  temples  were  handed 
over  to  the  sacred  treasury  and  augmented  the  priestly 
revenues.  It  has,  indeed,  been  generally  believed  upon 
the  statement  of  Herodotus  that  eve  y  Babylonian  woman 
was  obliged  once  in  her  life  to  appear  in  the  temple  of 
Ishtar  and  play  the  rSle  of  the  professional  votary  of  the 
goddess.^  But  a  slight  acquaintance  with  Babylonian  life 
would  show  any  one  the  absurdity  of  this  belief.     Such 

1  See  especially  Marx  in  BA.  IV,  13-39. 

2  Those  who  pursued  their  vocation  on  the  public  streets  (see  V  R.  25, 
7,  8,  cd)  were  still  regarded  as  sacred  prostitutes,  just  as  in  the  instance 
recorded  in  Gen.  xxxviii.  14  ff.,  where  the  fee  of  a  kid  indicates  the  asso- 
ciation with  the  impure  goddess  (cf.  Dillman  on  v.  17).  From  the  two 
following  lines  in  V  K.  it  would  seem  that  such  persons  were  eligible  for 
marriage.  The  word  used  is  the  same  as  that  in  Gen.  xxxviii.  21  (see 
§  1190).  But  all  the  names  applied  to  prostitutes  in  Assyrian,  unlike  the 
Hebrew  njn,  were  given  to  them  in  their  character  of  religious  devotees. 

8  See  Her.  I,  199.  It  may  seem  strange  that  Herodotus,  who  had  been 
in  Babylon,  could  have  been  so  grossly  deceived.  But  he  was  not  allowed 
(as  an  alien)  to  visit  the  interior  of  the  shrines  (I,  183),  and  indeed  he 
has  very  little  to  say  of  the  sacred  mysteries  generally. 


Ch.  I,  §  1334 


A  MORAL  REVULSION 


307 


compulsory  degradation  is  inconsistent  with  what  we  know 
of  the  position  accorded  to  woman  in  Babylonia.  The 
assertion  has  not  a  particle  of  monumental  evidence  to 
support  it.^  But  that  it  had  arpdence  in  its  time  serves 
to  show^  how  far  the  custom  of  which  it  was  a  carica- 
ture had  been  carried  in  wealthy,  luxurious,  and  devout 
Babylonia. 

§  1333.  Of  such  abuses  the  Hebrews  had  known  enough 
and  more  in  the  home-land  (§  1190).  But  their  point 
of  view  was  now  different,  and  the  system  itself  was  not 
the  same.  For  although  the  indulgence  of  lust  in  the 
name  of  religion  was  sometimes  permitted  at  local  shrines, 
or  even  in  the  central  sanctuary,  the  practice  was  thought 
of  by  the  people  at  large  as  either  a  phase  or  an  abuse  of 
the  national  worship.  Here,  however,  it  appeared  to  be 
the  direct  outgrowth  of  an  alien  religion,  a  religion,  more- 
over, which  flaunted  itself  everywhere  as  the  badge  and 
boast  of  their  conquerors.  The  system  came  to  be  u  direct 
demonstration  of  the  baleful  effect  of  the  worship  of  alien 
gods,  since  in  Babylonia  immorality  seemed  to  be  made 
the  special  property  of  the  state  and  of  the  state  religion. 

§  1334.  Such  a  wholesome  revulsion  of  sentiment  was 
in  its  measure  both  cause  and  effect  of  an  inward  revolt 
against  the  Babylonian  religion,  which  led  finally  to  a 
renunciation  of  non-Israelitish  worship  generally.  For  the 
Hebrews  in  Palestine  were  still  followeis  of  Jehovah,  even 
while  L'ley  joined  in  the  political  recognition  of  the  su- 
premacy of  the  gods  of  Assyria  and  Babylonia  or  had  resort 
in  times  of  extreme  distress  to  Canaanitic  superstition 
(§  1183).  Above  all,  their  daily  life  in  the  home-land  had 
been  largely  made  up  of  religious  usages  whose  dominant 
motive  was  the  acknowledgment  of  Jehovah  by  prayer 
and  sacrifice.  Here  not  only  the  objects  but  the  forms 
and  modes  of  worship  were  entirely  changed.     They  saw 


I'll  I 


I 


.t    •li 


'i'k 


m 


1  On  the  contrary,  many  extant  contracts  Imply  freedom  from  such 
reproach  on  the  part  of  those  offered  in  marriage. 


f  I 


!:l:^!' 


iil.  ]*■ 


It' -i 


n 

^^H-r::;.:  , 

i 

'iHi! 

.  - 

«£^B 

i 

'C'^iWi' 

1- 

'|W;i 

i   , 

j.tKi 

^S 

!■ 

f'' 

r 

,., 

\  -' 

,.       :; 

Iji, 

!             :! 

S'- 
,, 

!  li 


808 


THE   WORD  OF    PROPHECY 


Book  XI 


the  religion  of  their  conquerors  enthroned  in  its  undis- 
puted realm.  They  were  unable  either  to  understand  or 
to  participate  in  its  complicated  ritual;  and  were  at  the 
same  time  cut  off  from  that  observance  of  their  own  rites 
and  ceremonies,  which  had  been  the  habit,  and,  with  all 
its  abuses,  the  inspiration  of  their  lives. 

§  1385.  Strictly  speaking,  we  must  regard  the  condi- 
tions just  spoken  of  as  not  causes  but  occasions.  The 
main  influence  was  still  as  ever  the  prophetic  teaching. 
And  even  now,  had  prophetic  direction  been  absent,  those 
very  impressions  would  have  led  not  to  an  exclusive  faith 
in  Jehovah,  but  to  a  state  of  practical  godlessness,  wliich 
would  ultimately  have  resulted  in  an  absorption  into  the 
Chaldean  religion.  But  here  everything  favoured  the 
cause  of  the  nation's  true  God.  The  testimony  of  his 
advocates  in  the  past  was  on  record.  The  gathered  litera- 
ture of  Israel,  which  now  at  length  came  to  have  a  sacred 
character  as  the  relic  and  symbol  of  a  national  hope  and 
purpose,  appealed  to  minds  and  consciences  whicli  were 
formerly  closed  to  it  through  perversion  or  indifference. 
What  struck  most  powerfully  was  that  which  was  most 
relevant.  The  protests  against  idolatry,  the  denunciations 
and  appeals  of  Amos,  Hosea,  Isaiah,  and  Micah,  the  com- 
mands and  proclamations  of  Deuteronomy  (vi.  4;  vii.  9), 
now  fell  upon  attentive  ears ;  and  along  with  the  written 
went  the  living  word  proclaimed  by  the  living  voice. 

§  1336.  The  preachers  were,  in  the  first  generation  of 
the  Exile,  disciples  of  Jeremiah  with  Ezekiel  himself  and  his 
followers.  In  the  second  period  others  came  forward,  of  a 
new  and  larger  school  (§  1401  ff.).  And  never  did  preach- 
ers have  a  better  text.  The  labourers  at  the  close  of  the 
day,  wearied  by  servile  toil,  and  sore  with  the  galling  sense 
of  loss  and  a  broken  destiny,  were  in  themselves  a  challenge 
to  the  prophets  to  take  up  their  parable.^    The  whole  situa- 


1  Notice  that  in  Ezeltiel  tlie  exiles  are  represented  as  being  willing  to 
listen  to  the  words  of  the  prophet,  though  at  first  they  would  give  no  heed 
(iii.  7)  and  complained  that  he  spoke  in  figures  (xx.  49).     Significantly 


•flUi.P.  li.jpi  J« 


i  t 

•  •1 , 


€ii.  I,  §  1337 


JEHOVAH   IN  BABYLONIA 


S69 


tion  compelled  inquiry.  The  supreme  calamity  had  fallen. 
The  earlier  captives  were  not  restored  as  had  been  hoped, 
and  the  coup  tie  (jrace  had  been  given  to  their  country 
in  the  captivity  of  their  brethren.  They  were  given  leave 
to  live  in  a  strange  land ;  but  nearly  all  that  made  life 
worth  the  living  was  gone,  —  home  and  the  home-land,  the 
scenes  and  associations  of  earlier  life,  temple,  altars,  the 
very  means  and  motive  of  religion.  It  became  a  question 
whether  indeed  they  had  or  had  ever  had  a  God  worthy  of 
their  regard.  The  gods  of  Babylonia  might  be  monstrous 
and  strange,  but  they  were  at  least  gods  that  could  help 
their  followers.  What  had  Jehovah  done  for  his  people 
in  their  hour  of  need  ? 

§  1337.  This  dilemma  was  the  opportunity  of  the  proph- 
ets, who  had  now  become  pastors  and  watchmen  for  souls 
(Ez.  ii.  17  IT. ;  xxxiii.  2  ff.).  The  case  of  the  common  man 
was  this.  He  had  thought  of  his  Jehovah  as  a  god  of 
Israel  not  merely  in  the  national  but  in  the  local  sense. 
Even  the  first  band  of  exiles,  in  expecting  restoration  to 
Palestine  (§  1169),  looked  forward  to  coming  again  under 
his  direct  protection.  After  the  second  captivity  the 
whole  colony  thought  of  Jehovah  as  still  being  in  Pales- 
tine, where  indeed  an  attempt  was  made  to  continue  his 
-worship  (§  1244).  But  this  was  a  vague  and  dishearten- 
ing belief.  Their  teachers  must  now  make  them  know 
and  feel  that  their  own  God  was  in  Babylonia,  indeed  more 
really  in  Babylonia  than  in  Judah.  But  could  it  be  so  ? 
Could  a  deity  dwell  where  he  could  not  be  worshipped,  on 
an  alien  and  hostile  soil?  Yes,  he  dwells  wherever  his 
presence  is  felt.  And  he  could  prove  his  presence  first  of 
all  through  the  sense  of  his  power.  But  if  he  had  been 
as  powerful  as  the  gods  of  Babylon,  would  his  people  have 
been  vanquished  and  exiled?  This  was  the  old  inveterate 
enigma,  and  now  was  the  time  to  resolve   it.     Yes,  for 


,11;!.. 


m 


i 


,1   .:! 


they  are  described  just  after  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  as  being  stirred  by  hia 
words  and  eager  to  hear  more  of  them  (xxxiii.  30  f.)  while  the  prospect 
of  impressing  them  finally  is  more  favourable  (v.  33). 
2b 


870 


JEHOVAH'S  CLAIMS   VINDICATED 


Book  XI 


ri 


p^'i  r 


I 


W'>  ■'■-. 


MM' 


what  if  he  had  chosen  to  let  his  peoplo  be  conquered  and 
even  dragged  away  from  their  own  and  his  own  hmd  into 
this  very  region  of  the  earth?  Did  he  not  do  so?  This 
present  captivity  was  foretold  by  a  succession  of  his  pro- 
fessed spokesmen,  whose  authority  was  now  vindicated 
by  the  event.  One  decisive  step  further  was  taken,  in 
some  such  fashion  as  this :  '*  Might  not  such  a  God,  who 
evidently  has  an  interest  in  Babylonia,  wield  some  power 
also  in  Babylonia,  or  possibly  even  over  Babylonia  ?  Surely. 
Did  not  Jeremiah,  whom  we  thought  a  fanatic  and  a  traitor, 
always  say  that  Nebuchadrezzar  was  the  servant  of 
Jehovah,  to  do  his  work  in  our  punishment  and  banish- 
ment? So  far,  at  least,  he  spoke  truth.  Here  we  are, 
as  he  foretold,  without  our  temple,  our  altars,  our  vine 
and  fig  trees.  But  Jeremiah  said,  and  Ezekiel  says, 
that  this  is  only  part  of  his  work,  that  in  the  fulness  of 
time,  but  not  at  once.  He  will  restore  us  to  our  land 
and  our  city.  We  have  been  forced  to  believe  the 
harder  part  of  the  prediction.  Perhaps  the  easier  part 
may  also  come  to  pass.  But  only  so  if  our  God  is 
here  with  us." 

§  1338.  By  some  such  reasonable  process  the  sense  of 
the  truth  of  things  spread  in  ever  widening  circles.  And 
thus  was  gradually  popularized  in  this  remnant  of  Israel 
the  notion  of  God's  spirituality  and  omnipresence,  of  his 
moral  supremacy,  of  his  singular  providence  and  purpose. 
Practically  the  exiles  became  monotheists,  like  the  line 
of  prophets  whom  they  could  now  "trace  from  Moses  down- 
wards. There  was  much  difficulty  and  delay  and  bitter 
disappointment.  Some  perhaps  were  beyond  the  reach  of 
persuasion  ;  others  through  perversity  or  under  false  leader- 
ship lapsed  into  the  idol-worship  of  the  environment.  How 
the  seductions  of  Babylonian  worship  became  more  power- 
ful within  the  very  centre  of  the  colony  we  learn  from  a 
later  prophet  of  the  Exile.  (Isa.  xl.  20  f. ;  xliv.  12-20.) 
The  process  of  education  was  slow  and  gradual,  but  there- 
fore all  the  surer  and  more  thorough. 


Book  XI 

[uered  and 
II  land  into 

so?     This 
of  his  pro- 
vindicated 
I  taken,  in 

God,  who 
ome  power 
a?  Surely, 
id  a  traitor, 
servant  of 
md  banish- 
re  we  are, 
5,  our  vine 
ekiel   says, 

fulness  of 
o  our  land 
lelieve  the 
easier  part 
ur   God    is 

le  sense  of 
cles.     And 
t  of  Israel 
nee,  of  his 
id  purpose. 
:e  the  line 
OSes  down- 
and  bitter 
le  reach  of 
alse  leader- 
ent.    How 
ore  power- 
am  from  a 
iv.  12-20.) 
but  tbere- 


Cii.  I,  §  1340 


INDIVIDUALISM 


371 


§  1339.  This  popular  enlightenment  on  the  vital  ques- 
tion of  true  and  false  deities  and  the  activity  and  power  of 
the  God  of  Israel,  was  monumental  in  the  history  of  religion 
as  the  first  example  of  the  influence  of  "  Scripture  "  upon  a 
whole  community.  Progress  having  thus  begun,  an  advance 
was  made  in  actual  religious  knowledge  and  in  the  reli- 
gious life.  Prophetic  reflection  and  teaching  tended  now, 
as  before,  to  two  great  ends  of  Revelation, —  a  knowledge 
of  the  true  relation  of  the  individual  soul  to  God,  and  a 
right  conception  of  the  character  of  God  himself  and  his 
relation  to  his  people  and  to  the  world.  The  former,  which 
concerns  us  most  at  this  point,  was  prepared  for  mainly 
through  personal  trial,  which  brought  the  sufferers  near  to 
God  for  help.  The  earlier  stages  in  this  training  in  spirit- 
ual individualism  have  been  already  traced  (§  GOT  ff.,  987 
f.,  1009  ff.,  1025,  1204).  It  now  remains  to  indicate  some 
of  the  ways  in  which  the  experiences  of  exile  promoted  the 
sense  of  a  personal  relation  to  Jehovah. 

§  1840.  The  old  popular  conception  is  familiar  to  us. 
The  community,  that  is  to  say  the  nation  as  a  whole, 
claimed  Jehovah  as  its  protector  and  gave  Him  homage 
and  service.  The  ties  that  bound  God  and  people  together 
were  the  national  modes  of  outward  worship,  tending  to 
uniformity  and  finally  unified  in  the  reform  of  Josiah. 
Thus  Deuteronomy,  while  promoting  individualism  by  in- 
culcating holiness  towards  God,  actually  prejudiced  it  by 
the  concentration  of  woi-ship  and  the  wide  extension  of  a 
single  type  of  ritual.  Moreover,  the  renewal  of  the  cove- 
nant in  Deuteronomy  was  for  and  with  the  nation  as  a 
whole.  However  we  may  deplore  the  abandonment  of  the 
"  book  of  direction  "  by  the  successors  of  Josiah,  we  must 
find  some  compensation  in  the  march  of  events  that  shat- 
tered its  practical  logic  while  they  strengthened  its  spirit- 
ual lessons  and  appeals.  For  if  Jehovah  was  the  God  of 
his  people  in  Babylonia,  their  relation  to  him  must  be 
different  from  that  assumed  in  all  previous  current  con- 
ceptions.    Here  they  were  not  a  people  at  all  except  in 


'.'I ' 


I'll: 


'.  • .  ■ 


!    t 


ii 


)      ■'! 


1    ,'! 


Ir"'^ 


11 


ii'  !■ 


m 

mm 

l^Sh  ^1 

'if ' 
'■'1' 

372 


A   PERSONAL   EXrKllIEXCE 


Book  XI 


hi     ' . 

!i  r 


|;:     i 


11  h 


precarious  continuity  with  an  eventful  past.  They  were 
scattered  in  broken  and  lieli)less  bands  of  captives,  with 
none  of  the  means  or  appliances  of  worsliip  indispensable 
to  the  winning  of  God's  favour  and  inseparable  from  his 
self-revelation.  And  yet  Ho  had  shown  that  Ho  was  with 
them  still  (§  1337).  And  having  felt  his  presence  among 
them  even  there,  they  could  not  but  reflect  upon  tlie  new 
situation.  The  thought  of  each  serious  man  was  perhaps 
such  as  this :  "  The  nation  is  gone  :  then  Jehovah  must  be 
something  more  than  the  God  of  the  nation.  The  tribes, 
clans,  families,  are  all  broken  up:  then  He  is  not  merely 
a  God  of  tribes  and  families.  Then  He  must  be  my  own 
God."  Many  a  poor  soul,  in  its  baffled  longings  for  the 
courts  of  Jehovah,  doubtless  at  length  was  able  to  say  in 
the  spirit  of  the  psalmist  (Ps.  xliii.  3f.)  what  he  could  not 
have  said  before  his  banishment :  — 

"  Send  forth  thy  liglit  and  thy  truth ; 
Let  them  lead  ine  ; 
Let  them  bring  me  to  thy  holy  hill 
And  to  thy  tabernacles ; 
Then  will  I  go  to  the  altar  of  God, 
To  God,  the  gladness  of  my  joy." 

§  1341.  This  idea  of  God's  direct  relation  to  the  indi- 
vidual soul,  like  that  of  his  spirituality  (§  1338),  was 
nothing  new  in  Israel.  Did  not  the  prophets  in  ever 
increasing  measure  realize  it  and  live  by  it?  But  the 
prophets  were  always  singular.  It  was  the  work  of  the 
Exile  out  of  their  gold  to  make  current  coiri.  This  coin, 
to  be  sure,  had  much  alloy  in  it  from  the  soil  of  Canaan 
and  Babylonia.  One  cannot  but  think  of  Jeremiah,  who 
first  gave  articulate  utterance  to  the  doctrine  of  individual 
responsibility  (xxxi.  30).  We  have  just  spoken  of  the 
renewal  of  the  national  covenant  (§  1340).  We  remem- 
ber how  Jeremiah  was  summoned  to  proclaim  it  to  his 
people  (Jer.  xi.  2).  And  we  have  seen  how  out  of  sym- 
pathy he  was  with  form  and  ritual  (§  1068).  It  is, 
therefore,  in  keeping  with  his  character  and  ideals  that 


Cn.  I,  §  1342 


TEACHING   OF   EZEKIEL 


873 


he  should  conceive  of  a  new  and  profounder  spiritual 
relation.  "See,  the  days  are  coming,  saith  Jehovah,  when 
I  shall  make  a  new  covenant  with  the  house  of  Israel 
and  the  house  of  Judah.  ...  I  will  put  my  law  in  their 
inmost  being,  and  in  their  heart  will  I  write  it  *  .  .  ." 
(xxxi.  31  ff. ).  Such  a  thought  was  not  transcended  by 
any  successor  until  the  days  of  the  Christ,  who  also 
brought  about  its  fulfilment. 

§  1342.  Yet  when  Ezckicl  elaborates  the  idea  of  in- 
dividual responsibility  (^  1204  f.),  his  vivid  and  am[)le 
illustration  makes  a  weightier  impression  than  the  brief 
declaration  of  his  master.^  The  sense  of  God's  nearness 
to  the  several  members  of  his  community  ("all  souls  are 
mine,"  v.  4)  and  of  their  consequent  responsibility,  seems 
more  sure  and  real  in  the  concrete  presentation  of  the 
later  prophet.  Practically  Ezekiel  did  his  best  work  for 
his  own  time  and  people  in  his  much-needed  ap[)licati()n 
of  this  doctrine,  in  asserting  and  reiterating  (ch.  xxxiii.) 
that  the  children  should  not  suffer  for  the  sins  of  the 
fathers,  that  every  man  should  "  die  "  through  his  own 
sins,  or  "  live "  through  his  own  righteousness.  The 
notion  was  natural  to  men  not  yet  half  emerged  from 
tribalism  that  the  solidarity  of  the  family  from  the  first 
ancestor  downward  involved  the  inheritance  of  sin  and 
its  punishment.  And  now  that  the  acme  of  suffering 
and  chastisement  had  been  reached,  they  could  not  but 
regard  their  lot  as  the  consequence  both  of  their  own 
offences  and  of  those  of  their  fathers.  However  imper- 
fectly Ezekiel  may  have  conceived  of  the  actual  conse- 
quences to  men  of  the  sins  of  the  past,  he  ranks  high  as 
a  friend  of  humanity  in  helping  to  rid  men  of  a  belief 
in  imputed  guilt  and  predestined  doom,  —  the  awful  bug- 
bear of  ancient  tribalistic  superstition  and  of  modern 
scholastic  theology.    That  he  concerned  himself  so  greatly 

1  Cf.  Ps.  xl.  8  (EV.).  This  psalm  is  largely  a  reflex  of  the  experiences 
of  Jeremiah. 

2  Cf.  Skinner,  The  Book  of  Ezekiel,  p.  144  f. 


1 


11! 


I 


I,  . 


Mil 


I       ■ ' 


Mif 


i 

fiii  ■ 

il 

||| 

Pi 

lii,  ' 


-IP- 


I''  ;'l 


Sr  'i 


%  i 


r    m 


874 


RITUALISM  OF  EZEKIEL 


Book  XI 


with  this  question  of  the  moral  life  and  fate  of  men  betrays 
his  intense  sympathy  with  his  people,  intellectual  and 
spiritual.  He  was,  perhaps,  the  first  prophet  to  whom 
was  committed,  in  the  ecclesiastical  sense,  "the  cure  of 
souls ; "  ^  and  it  was  the  Exile  that  gave  him  his  parish. 

§  1343.  Yet  it  was  inevitable  that  Ezekiel  should 
work  more  for  the  community  than  for  the  individual, 
not  merely  because  he  was  the  child  of  his  time  and 
environment,  but  also  by  virtue  of  native  and  pro- 
fessional bias.  His  sympathy  with  Jeremiah  in  moral 
teaching,  and  his  unlikeness  to  him  in  intellectual  tastes 
and  habits,  we  have  already  indicated  (§  1174).  No 
better  suggestion  can  be  given  of  the  dominant  purpose 
of  his  life  and  ministry  than  to  say  that  it  was  the  con- 
tinuation and  adaptation  of  Deuteronomy.  What  Josiah 
and  his  men  did  in  their  time  and  measure  for  the  later 
kingdom  of  Judah,  Ezekiel  sought  to  effect  for  the 
exiled  community.  His  aims  were  practical  and  definite. 
He  knew  that  without  rites  and  ceremonies  at  holy  places 
his  Israel  could  not  permanently  survive.  But  he  had 
to  labour  in  an  ideal  region,  for  the  essential  conditions 
of  the  historic  ritual  were  now  wholly  wanting. 

§  1344.  This  spirit  in  Ezekiel  is  shown  in  a  deference 
to  legal  prescriptions  and  ritual  obligations,  such  as  the 
earlier  prophets  had  not  displayed  (iv.  14 ;  v.  11 ;  xviii.  6 ; 
XX.  12 ;  xxiii.  38  et  al.).  His  ritualistic  proclivities  come 
out  most  clearly  in  the  latest  section  of  his  book  (chs.  xl.- 
xlviii.).  There  he  describes  the  restored  and  purified 
theocracy ;  and  he  does  not  refer  to  its  moral  and  spiritual 
basis,  but  dwells  upon  its  constitution  and  its  modes  of 
worship.  He  describes  the  new  temple  (xl.-xliii.)  with  its 
courts  and  gates  and  chambers  (ctr.  Jer.  iii.  16).  This  is 
the  single  sanctuary  of  Deuteronomy.  But  he  goes  beyond 
Deuteronomy  in  restricting  the  priesthood  not  to  the  Le- 
vites,  but  to  the  family  of  Zadok  alone  (ch.  xliv.).     He 

1  Benan,  Histoire  dupeuplc  d' Israel,  III,  .395. 


a ; 


m 


■■:l 


'i\ 


Ch.  I,  §  1345        THE  PERMANENT  IN  RELIGION 


876 


allots  lands  to  the  priests  near  the  temple  (ch.  xlv.).  The 
civil  ruler  is  to  make  it  his  main  business  to  look  after 
the  sacrifices  (ch.  xlvi.).  He  also  prescribes  for  the  ob- 
servance of  feasts,  and  for  a  lustration  of  the  temple  at  the 
opening  of  the  year  (ch.  xlv.  18  f.).^  And  he  divides  up 
the  Holy  Land  into  parallel  sections  from  the  Jordan  to 
the  sea  (ch.  xlvii.  13-xlviii.  29).^ 

§  1345.  This  vision  of  the  new  Jerusalem  was  seen  in 
the  twenty-fifth  year  of  the  prophet's  exile,  and  his  only 
subsequent  utterance  (xxix.  17  ff.)  was  made  two  years 
later  (570  B.C.).  His  ministry  thus  almost  covers  the 
earlier  half  of  the  Captivity.  At  its  close  the  moral  and 
religious  bent  and  tendency  of  the  exiles  were  pretty  well 
determined.  Temptations  to  idolatry  had  now  done  their 
woi-st,  though  they  were  ever  present  (§  1338).  The  test- 
ing and  fashioning  of  character  was  a  long  and  complex 
process.  What  Ezekiel  says  of  the  condition  of  his  people 
comes  in  the  form  of  objurgations,  and  is  to  be  understood 
as  representing  the  most  unfavourable  view.  As  helpful 
influences,  we  must  count  not  merely  the  slow-acting  moral 
forces  that  entered  into  their  discipline  (§  1314  ff.),  but 
also  the  permanent  elements  of  the  old  religion.  These 
now  became  doubly  valuable.  The  sabbath  could  not  be 
made  a  sacred  feast-day ;  but  it  could  still  be  a  day  of  con- 
vocation, with  a  more  direct  and  heartfelt  worship.  The 
priest  might  not  present  the  worshipper's  offering  to  Jeho- 
vah ;  but  a  richer  blessing  came  from  an  answer  to  direct 
personal  prayer.  While  the  priest,  as  a  living  personal 
influence,  became  less  and  less,  the  prophet  became  more 
and  more,  till  the  acme  of  prophecy  was  reached  in  the 


1i 


I 


;iU 


I, 

1  -I 


1  That  is,  on  the  first  of  Niaan,  in  conformity  with  Babylonian  usage. 
The  old  Hebrew  year  began  in  autumn  (Ex.  xxlii.  10  ;  xxxiv.  22).  This 
usage  continued  to  the  end  of  the  kingdom,  as  we  learn  from  the  fact  that 
the  feast  of  the  Passover  was  celebrated  in  the  same  year  as  that  in  which 
*'  the  book  of  direction  "  was  found  (§  852).  The  post-exilic  date  of  Ex. 
xii.  2  may  be  inferred  from  this  fact  alone. 

2  Comp.  Marti,  Geachichte  der  israel.  Religion  (1897),  p.  204  fl. 


I 


It 


i 

■  t 

:  r 


in; 


876 


SABBATH  OF  THE   EXILE 


Book  XI 


mS4 


•■,1,  ;,^ 


Second  Isaiah.  While  the  living  prophetic  word  was 
presumably  also  present  in  the  middle  years  of  the  Exile, 
the  written  word  was  prized,  and  was  read  and  expounded 
also  in  the  sabbath  assemblies. 

§  1346.  Too  much  can  scarcely  be  made  of  the  sabbath 
of  the  Exile.  Whatever  we  may  think  of  its  earlier  ob- 
servance,^ it  certainly  became  henceforth  a  more  than 
theoretical  or  formal  holy  day.  It  was  also  a  Babylonian 
institution.  In  this  possibly  lay  a  peril,  but  one  not  so 
great  as  we  might  imagine  ;  for  Israel  was  cut  off  from  its 
celebration  as  an  alien  rite,  while  the  moral  force  of  its 
weekly  recognition  by  the  ruling  people  of  the  world  re- 
mained unaffected.  It  is  quite  possible  that  it  was  recog- 
nized as  having  been  a  sacred  season  common  to  the  two 
peoples  in  remotest  antiquity.  As  the  Hebrews  necessa- 
rily conformed  their  calendar  to  that  of  the  people  of  the 
land  (cf.  §  1344),  they  may  also  have  adopted  the  same 
sabbath  days,  the  seventh,  fourteenth,  twenty-first,  and 
twenty-eighth  of  the  month.  The  Assyrian  and  Babylon- 
ian sabbath  seems   to  have  been  practically  a  fast-day ,2 

^  In  Hosea  ii.  13  (EV.  11)  the  sabbath  appears  as  a  day  of  "enjoy- 
ment." This  accords  with  its  statutory  recognition  as  a  "breathing- 
spell  "  (u'DJV  Ex.  xxiii.  12).  The  idea  of  rest  and  refreshing  is,  however, 
secondary,  as  tiie  root  nat'  properly  means  to  "  cease  "  (cf.  the  Assyrian 
usage  as  synonym  of  gamani).  This  original  sense  of  "  quitting,"  came 
naturally  to  be  applied  to  cessation  from  normal  activity.  The  proscip- 
tion  of  regular  work  (Ex.  xvi.  4  f.  JE.)  was  extended  to  trading  (^V  n. 
viii.  5).  Like  the  new  moon  celelration,  also  a  dsiy  of  enjoyment  (Hos. 
I.e.),  it  became  a  time  of  religious  gathering  where  oracles  might  be  con- 
sulted (2  K.  iv.  23). 

2  The  essential  facts  regarding  this  sabbath  are  the  following:  The 
word  itself  {i^apattu)  occurs,  so  far,  but  once  (in  II  K.  16,  32  ab)  in  the 
Assyrio-Babyloni.an  monuments.  It  is  explained  there  as  "  the  day  for 
quieting  the  heart,"  a  connnon  phrase  for  propitiating  (the  gods).  But 
in  IV  11.  32  there  is  given  a  liemerology  of  the  montli  Elul  (September),  in 
which  it  is  .said  that  on  the  days  above  mentioned  (and  also  on  the  nine-, 
teenth)  the  "  shepherd  of  many  peoples  "  (that  is,  the  king  as  representing} 
the  people,  like  the  "prince"  in  Ez.  xlv.  22  ff. )  should  eat  no  flesh 
roasted  in  the  coals,  and  no  food  that  had  come  in  contact  with  fire, 
should  not  change  his  clothes  nor  wear  a  white  garment,  or  yoke  (?)  a 


m  '^ 


Book  XI 

,vord  was 
;he  Exile, 
cpounded 

e  sabbath 
irlier  ob- 
)re  than 
ibylonian 
e  not  so 
from  its 
ce  of  its 
vorld  re- 
xs  recog- 
the  two 
nece.ssa- 
e  of  the 
he  same 
irst,  and 
Babylon- 
ast-daj,2 

"enjoy. 

breathiug- 
however, 
Assyrian 
g,"  came 
proscrip- 

ing  (A  n. 

ent  (IIos, 

it  be  con- 

g:  The 
lb)  in  the 
e  day  for 
Is).  But 
mber),  in 
the  nine-, 
resenting  I 
no  flesh 
vith  fire, 
)ke  (?)  a 


Ch.  I,  §  1348 


THE   BABYLONIAN  SABBATH 


;577 


whose  observance  was  guarded  with  extraordinary  strict- 
ness. This  may  help  to  explain  the  fact  that  during  and 
after  the  Exile  the  Hebrew  sabbath  was  also  more  rigor- 
ously observed  as  a  day  of  rest  and  abstinence. 

§  1347.  But  the  Babylonian  sabbath  was  of  importance 
to  the  Hebrews  mainly  because  it  afforded  them  the  needed 
opportunities  for  the  cultivation  of  the  religious  life. 
Their  religion,  being  of  a  social  character,  was  chiefly  pro- 
moted by  stated  meetings.  As  slaves,  the  greater  number 
of  them  had  no  opportunity  of  assembling  either  in  large 
or  small  groups  for  any  formal  purpose,  except  when  leis- 
ure was  granted  to  them  in  consequence  of  general  social 
and  industrial  usage.  Now  if  the  employing  and  employed 
classes  both  observed  the  same  day  of  rest,  the  opportunity 
came  of  itself.  The  sabbath  meetings  would  thus  be  the 
chief  occasion  of  religious  development. 

§  1348.  The  main  determining  factor  was  the  felt  needs 
of  the  community.  In  view  of  past  failures  and  present 
distress,  the  ruin  of  Jerusalem  and  the  banishment  and 
shame,  the  former  mirth  of  the  sacred  feasts  would  give 
place  to  sighing  and  weeping.  The  situation  and  the  mood 
itself  are  set  forth  by  one  of  the  surviving  worshippers  in 
immortal  verse  (Ps.  cxxxvii.)  :  — 

chariot,  or  speak  with  autliority  (that  is,  officially)  ;  that  no  seer  should 
give  an  oracle  in  a  secret  place  ;  that  no  physician  should  minister  (bring 
his  hand)  to  a  sick  person.  Kach  of  thtse  days  is  described  as  "  baleful  " 
{limnu).  But  this  apparently  means  that  it  is  unlucky  to  do  any  ordi- 
nary work  on  that  day.  We  have  here  a  I'liarisaic  strictness  of  observance. 
Though  liie  word  "sabbath'"  is  not  used,  it  is  plain  that  it  is  intended. 
This  is  shown  by  its  hebdomadal  recurrence  as  well  as  by  the  character  of 
its  prohibitions.  So  far  only  the  ancient  Hebrews  and  Assyrio-Babylon- 
ians  are  proved  to  have  had  the  sabbath,  though  the  new  moon  was  cele- 
brated by  all  the  Semites.  The  current  view  that  tlie  Hebrews  learned 
the  custom  from  the  Canaanites  (<'.(/.,  Smend,  Alttt'st.  ReUtjionxiioxrhirhte, 
p.  l.S!))  is  a  mere  assumption.  The  week  of  seven  days  was  based  upon 
the  four  pluuses  of  the  moon  ;  but  the  religious  use  of  the  seventh  day  is 
quite  distinct  from  this  division.  This  institution  of  the  sabbath  is  tlie 
strongest  single  evidence  of  a  close  connection  between  the  earliest 
Hebrews  and  Babylonia. 


11 


:!     ' 


m 


V    ,1 


yi.' 


■J 


I         ,i 


1. 


u 


m 


f  i  !• 


M- 


[»• 


378 


SACRED  ASSEMBLIES 


Book  XI 


"  By  the  stream  of  Babylonia  there  we  sat  down ; 
We  wept,  too,  as  we  thought  of  Zion. 
On  the  willows  in  the  midst  thereof 
We  hung  up  our  lyres. 

For  there  our  captors  asked  of  us  words  of  song, 
And  our  spoilers  ^  words  of  mirth : 
*  Sing  to  us  of  the  songs  of  Zion.' 
How  shall  we  sing  Jehovah's  songs  on  an  alien  soil?" 

Such  days  of  assembly  were  days  of  fasting,  humiliation, 
and  prayer.  Every  religion  takes  its  complexion  from 
the  temper  and  circumstances  of  its  first  worshippers ; 
and  the  Jewish,  as  distinct  from  the  old  Hebrew  type 
of  religion,  owes  much  of  its  sombre  aspect  and  plain- 
tive tone  to  the  habits  and  associations  of  the  exiles  in 
Babylonia.  Such  a  tone  and  temper  have  been,  perhaps, 
more  of  a  gain  than  a  loss  to  Judaism.  Nothing  binds 
men  together  like  the  remembrance  of  common  suffering 
kept  alive  by  a  perpetual  memorial.  From  the  Exile 
came  forth  the  Synagogue. 

§  1349.  Thus  were  laid  among  the  exiles  the  founda- 
tions of  a  new  religious  community.  What  threatened 
to  destroy  the  kingdom  of  Jehovah  proved  the  best  pos- 
sible means  of  its  restoration.  The  sifting  process  was 
long,  of  which  Amos  had  spoken  (ix.  9)  ;  and  after  much 
chaff  had  fallen,  to  be  absorbed  by  the  "  alien  soil,"  not 
all  of  the  grain  that  remained  was  found  good  and 
worthy.  But  the  good  was  of  the  choicest  known  in  all 
God's  husbandry.  Only  the  most  strenuous  and  patient 
could  endure  the  strain  on  faith  and  hope.  Only  the  most 
ardent  and  loyal  could  hold  to  the  promise  of  Jeremiah 
or  be  sustained  by  the  visions  of  Ezekiel.  But  the 
work  in  heart  and  conscience  was  done  as  never  before  or 
after  in  Israel's  history.  Self-searching,  reflection,  intrepid 
devotion,  reached  forth  after  a  God  who  was  not  very  far 
off,  and  found  him  to  be  nearer  at  hand  than  he  had 
ever  been  in  the  temple  or  by  the  altars  of  Jerusalem. 

1  A  slight  emendation  (n  for  c')  after  the  Targum. 


ill 


Book  XI 


?" 

liliation, 
3n  from 
hippers ; 
ew  tjpe 
i  plaiii- 
ixiles  in 
perhaps, 
g  binds 
uffering 
e   Exile 


Ch.  I,  §  1349 


MARKS   OF  PROGRESS 


379 


Moral  steadfastness,  always  the  most  authentic  warrant 
of  inner  convictions,  here  made  assurance  doubly  sure.  As 
the  resultant  of  the  working  of  these  forces  of  mind  and 
soul,  two  great  facts  were  projected  clear  and  full  before 
the  spiritual  gaze.  There  was  an  Israel  left,  a  people  of 
Jehovah  ;  and  Jehovah  was  here  among  his  people.  Thus 
the  great  word  of  Jeremiah  was  being  fulfilled  (§  1341). 


;■! 


i  i 


founda- 
eatened 
est  pos- 
ess  was 
r  much 
il,"  not 
3d  and 
I  in  all 
patient 
le  most 
remiah 
ut  the 
fore  or 
itrepid 
ery  far 
le  had 
salem. 


iR': 


>^  '.n 


.-   ^;l 


CHAPTER  II 


HEBREW   LITERATURE  OF  THE  EXILE 


§  1350.  The  Exile  was  perhaps  the  period  of  great- 
est literary  activity  in  the  history  of  Israel.  It  certainly 
made  a  literary  epoch  of  unequalled  importance.  Tliis 
intellectual  movement  was  in  part  due  to  inner  develop- 
ment, in  part  to  the  effect  of  the  environment.  In  the 
first  place,  with  the  passing  away  of  the  kingdom,  there 
arose  a  desire  to  collect  and  arrange  the  records  of  the 
past,  as  well  as  the  scattered  fragments  of  its  literature. 
Then  came  the  work  of  the  reforming  school,  which 
reasserted  itself  in  the  Exile  after  its  policy  had  been 
vindicated  by  events.  In  its  interest,  earlier  documents 
were  edited,  remodelled,  and  supplemented,  so  as  to  bring 
them  into  accord  with  the  teachings  of  history  and  provi- 
dence. Of  spontaneous  literary  work,  that  of  projecting 
a  new  ritual  for  the  future  restored  Israel,  was  of  epoch- 
making  significance.  Nor  did  the  living  words  of  proph- 
ecy fail  to  find  a  permanent  record. 

§  1351.  Such  inner  impulses  to  written  composition 
were  promoted  by  exceptional  outward  circumstances. 
Men  of  the  priestly  class,  who  had  shown  so  much  liter- 
ary activity  in  the  preceding  age  (§  1017),  were  now 
without  official  occupation.  At  the  same  time,  the  inter- 
est of  the  priests  in  the  edification  of  their  people  was 
as  great  as  ever,  and  the  business  of  informing  them  by 
tongue  or  pen  would  flourish  by  the  mere  conversion  of 
energy.  Possibly  the  strongest  external  influence  ^vas 
that  of  the   people  and   institutions  of   Babylonia.     The 

380 


.1.  1 


Cii.  II,  §  1362 


BABYLONIAN   INFLUENCES 


381 


gradual  diffusion  of  technical  education  by  means  of  the 
employments  of  Babylonian  life  (§  1301  ff.)  was  of  itself 
a  general  preparation.  A  special  incentive  was  the  habit 
of  writing,  almost  universal  among  the  people  of  the 
land,  and  necessarily  made  general  among  the  Hebrews 
as  they  came  to  be  engaged  in  varied  business.  Add 
to  this  the  effect  upon  a  gifted  people  of  a  literary  atmos- 
phere and  of  a  great  literature  of  immemorial  antiquit3\ 
The  Hebrew  literature  of  the  Exile  shows  many  tokens 
of  Babylonian  influence  direct  and  indirect.  Such  are  a 
more  copious  and  systematic  form  and  style  of  compo- 
sition, the  use  of  Babylonian  imagery,  allusions  to  Baby- 
lonian scenery  and  national  customs,  the  employment  of 
characteristic  Babylonian  phrases,  and  a  laiger  view  of 
the  world  and  of  the  scope  of  providence  and  history. 

§  1352.  Special  emphasis  must  be  laid  upon  two  of 
the  ways  in  which  Hebrew  literature  was  affected  by  the 
Exile,  and  chiefly  through  Babylonian  influence.  In  the 
first  place,  distinctness  and  regularity  of  form  were 
given  to  Hebrew  composition.  No  production  of  an 
earlier  time,  except  the  prophecy  of  Amos,  is  marked 
by  symmetry  of  structure.  The  works  of  llosea,  Micah, 
Isaiah,  Zephaniah,  Nahum,  Habakkuk,  and,  to  a  lai'ge 
extent,  Jeremiah,  have  all  come  to  us  in  a  greater  or 
less  degree  unshapen  and  in  disorder.^  Single  passages 
may  be  and  often  are  models  of  choice  rhetoric.  Sanity 
and  energy  of  thought,  and  the  constant  pressure  of  the 
realities  of  the  outer  and  inner  life  of  men,  ensured 
the  coherence  and  reasonableness  of  each  single  dis- 
course. But  there  is  not  the  coordination  and  concur- 
rence of  several  parts,  the  continuity  of  purpose,  the 
cumulative  effect,  which  mark  a  considerable  work  of 
art.  We  do  not  expect  from  any  Hebrew  writer  the 
sustained  logical  argument  or  the  elaborate   design  that 

1  The  abruptness  of  the  transitions  thereby  entailed  creates  as  much 
difficulty  in  the  critical  analysis  as  does  the  absence  of  the  names  of  the 
Authors. 


i^^ 


I  ^1 


]'.'l 


I  I- 


I         I   r 


f    1 


pi 


11 


■Ml 
I  II 


i 


f 

1 

h  I, 


M     I 


W' 


382 


CRITERIA   OF  STYLE  AND   MANNER 


Book  XI 


distinguish  the  Greek  philosopher  or  tragedian.  But 
largeness  and  comprehensiveness  of  conception,  with  due 
adaptation  of  auxiliary  details,  were  not  beyond  the  scope 
of  the  Hebrew  orator  and  poet. 

§  1353.  The  distinction  in  style  and  method  between 
the  earlier  and  the  later  is  felt  immediately  when  we  ob- 
serve the  plan  and  system  of  Ezekiel,  who  was  after  all 
only  mechanically  an  artist ;  or  a  little  later,  when  we  are 
confronted  with  the  majestic  unity  and  triumphal  progress 
of  the  Second  Isaiah ;  or,  later  still,  when  we  follow  the 
profound  moral  reasoning  and  internal  cogency  of  the  book 
of  Job.  It  was  not  the  habit  of  earlier  writers  or  speakers 
to  arrange  their  works  artistically.^  They  sometimes 
edited  their  own  separate  discourses  by  writing  them  down 
and  condensing  them,  as  Baruch  edited  what  was  com- 
mitted to  him  of  the  utterances  of  Jeremiah ;  but  the  dis- 
position of  their  complete  works  was  left  to  other  and  later 
hands.  That  the  book  of  Amos  forms  an  exception  shows 
either  that  he  was  a  unique  original  artist,  or  that  the 
matter  of  the  book  was  rearranged  after  the  Exile .'^ 

§  1354.  Another  literary  effect  of  the  Exile  was  the 
increased  employment  of  artificial,  or  rather  of  indirect 
modes  of  description  and  instruction,  especially  of  symbol, 
parable,  and  allegory.  I  need  only  instance  the  prevailing 
types  of  Ezekiel's  discourses  and  of  those  of  Zechariah,  and 
that  greatest  personification  in  all  literature,  the  Servant 
of  Jehovah,  in  the  Second  Isaiah.  Apart  from  the  influ- 
ences of  environment  (§  1351),  it  is  quite  probable  that  ban- 
ishment, national  and  personal,  promoted  in  its  measure 
this  form  of  composition.    Friedrich  Schlegel  has  expressed 


1  Longer  compositions  with  an  historical  framework  (J  and  E)  neces- 
sarily involved  a  plan  suited  to  the  general  purpose,  but  this  scarcely 
comes  within  the  province  of  literary  art.  The  original  Deuteronomy 
certainly  shows  no  definite  progress  in  its  arrangement  of  topics.  Con- 
trast its  structure  with  the  systematizing  of  P. 

*  H.  J.  Elhorst,  De  profetie  van  Amos  (Leiden,  1900),  claims  for  Amos 
an  intermediate  date,  638  to  621  b.c. 


Cii.  II,  §  1350 


LITERARY  OUTCOME 


88a 


IS  for  Amos 


the  opinion  1  that  the  prohibition  of  sensible  images  of  the 
Deity  fostered  the  employment  of  types  and  symbols  in 
the  Hebrew  literature.  We  may  go  further  and  say  that 
the  same  propensity  was  encouraged  by  the  complete  ab- 
straction of  the  writers  of  the  Exile  from  all  the  outward 
reminders  of  the  faith  and  history  of  their  people.  How 
different  were  the  visions  of  Ezekiel  in  Babylonia  from  the 
single  vision  of  Isaiah  in  Jerusalem !  Was  it  not  through 
a  similar  subtle  interaction  of  mind,  spirit,  tand  environ- 
ment, that  Dante  the  exile  became  the  seer  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  that  Bunyan  the  prisoner  composed  the  most 
realistic  and  effective  of  allegories? 

§  1355.  The  literary  activity  of  the  exiles  resulted  in 
(1)  historical  compilation;  (2)  ritual  and  legal  prescription; 
(3)  original  or  living  prophecy ;  (4)  sacred  song.  An 
intense  occupation  with  the  past  history  of  Israel,  was,  like 
the  clianges  in  literary  form  above  mentioned  (§  1352  ff.), 
in  great  measure  the  result  of  disassociation  from  the 
long-cherished  life  and  scenes  of  Palestine.  While  there 
was,  in  a  sense,  no  present  for  the  nation,  the  past  appeared 
all  the  more  significant  and  imposing.  Historical  interest 
became  more  intelligently  directed,  as  well  as  more  intense, 
when  the  survival  of  Israel  in  its  banishment  was  changed 
from  longing  to  hope  and  from  hope  to  certainty.  The 
past  must  be  viewed  not  merely  as  a  great  fact,  but  as  a 
lesson ;  not  merely  as  a  discipline,  but  as  a  preparation. 
The  humble  dwelling  of  the  scribe  was  changed  from  a 
study  into  a  school.  Thought  and  utterance  shaped  them- 
selves by  the  ideals  and  obligations  of  a  wider  future. 

§  1856.  The  conception  of  Israel's  history  which  had 
been  formed  during  the  evil  reign  of  Manasseh,  and  which 
found  expression  in  Deuteronomy,  became  crystallized  into 
a  religious  dogma  during  the  Exile.  The  code  of  Deuter- 
onomy, now  canonized  by  the  fall  of  its  despisers,  was  a 

1  Geschichte  der  alten  uticl  neuen  Litteratur  (1812),  ch.  ix.  He  remarks 
that  a  similar  prohibition  has  produced  a  similar  effect  among  the  Mo- 
hammedans. 


'  M 


I:    ^ 


';li. 


(.1. 


■1i   -^    SI 


884 


REVISION   0¥   HISTORY 


Book  XI 


i 


1 


i   ';r 


If  :; 


t>..r 


monunieiital  proclamation  that  the  one  great  offence  of 
Israel  had  been  the  false  worship  of  Jehovah  and  the  com- 
bination of  his  service  with  that  of  alien  gods.  Already, 
before  the  Exile,  this  conception  had  apparently  affected 
the  treatment  of  the  earlier  literature.  But  now  the 
whole  previous  history  of  Israel  was  revised  and  supple- 
mented in  accordance  with  this  interpretation.  So  deep 
and  strong  was  the  impression  of  the  evil  wrought  in  the 
heart  and  life  of  the  nation  by  idolatry  and  disloyalty 
to  Jehovah  that  no  room  was  left  in  the  minds  of  the 
scribes  for  the  consideration  of  any  other  cause.  Hence 
chiefly  the  striking  absence  from  the  historical  books  of 
reference  to  the  actual  sins  and  crimes  of  the  people  or 
its  leaders,  apart  from  the  worship  oi  idols  or  of  Jehovah 
Himself  in  an  unlawful  fashion.^  We  feel  that  the  ex- 
treme but  searching  moral  indictment  of  the  prophets  is 
truer  to  the  life ;  and  we  turn  to  them  with  satisfaction 
from  the  stereotyped  phrases  in  which  the  religious  de- 
linquencies of  this  and  that  period  or  ruler  are  catalogued 
in  the  historical  books.  Probably  the  mass  of  the  Hebrew 
people  could  be  moved  in  no  other  way.  Being  Hebrews, 
they  were  accustomed  to  hyperbole  in  all  sorts  and  modes 
of  discourse,  and  it  was  necessary  to  present  what  was  ob- 
noxious in  such  a  way  as  would  admit  of  no  qualification 
or  abatement.  But  the  Deuteronomic  editors  went  further 
in  their  definition  of  false  worship.  Since  all  religious 
rites  were  interdicted  by  Deuteronomy,  except  at  Jerusalem, 
the  test  of  the  >'  Tightness  "  of  any  reign  was  its  conformity 
to  the  code. 

§  1357.  It  was  upon  these  lines  that  the  book  (or,  as 
we  now  have  them,  the  books)  of  the  Kings  was  revised 
and  reconstructed.  The  obvious  divisions  of  this  work 
are :  (1)  the  reign  of  Solomon,  1  K.  i.-xi. ;  ^  (2)  the  con- 
current reigns  of  the  kings  of  Israel  and  Judah,  2  K.  xii.- 


m 


1  Cf.  Montefiore,  Religion  of  the  Aticient  Hebrews  (Hibbert  Lectures, 
1892),  p.  232  f. 

^  Cbs.  i.  aud  ii.  are  a  close  continuatioa  of  Samuel. 


fe.  i„ 


i 


Book  XI 

ffence  of 
the  com- 
Already, 

affected 
now  the 
1  supple- 
So  deep 
it  iu  the 
isloyalty 
a  of  the 
Hence 
books  of 
leople  or 
Jehovah 

the  ex- 
)phets  is 
isfaction 
ious  de- 

alogued 

Hebrew 
lebrews, 
d  modes 

was  ob- 
ificatioii 
1  further 
•eligious 

usalem, 

formity 

(or,  as 

revised 

is  work 

;he  con- 

K.  xii.- 

Lectures, 


Cii.  II,  §  1.358 


BOOK  OF   KINGS 


385 


xvii. ;  (3)  the  reigns  of  the  surviving  kingdom  of  Judah 
alone,  2  K.  xviii.-xxv.  As  for  Solomon,  the  chief  distinc- 
tion accorded  to  him  is  that  of  builder  of  the  Tem[)l{',  the 
act  which  fixed  the  central  worship,  while  his  own  reli- 
gious infidelity  is  not  overlooked.  In  the  second  and  tliiid 
divisions  a  striking  contrast  of  modes  of  treatment  is  to  be 
noted.  Since  the  Northern  Kingdom  was  founded  under 
the  auspices  of  the  symbolical  worship  of  Jehovah,  this  is 
regarded  as  the  primal  apostasy.  Hence  it  was  made  a 
standing  phrase  descriptive  of  every  northern  king  with- 
out exception,  that  "he  did  evil  in  the  sight  of  Jehovah," 
or  "  walked  in  the  way  of  Jeroboam  (son  of  Nebat )  who 
made  Israel  to  sin."  Of  many  of  the  kings  of  Judah  a 
similar  condemnation  is  given.  Eight  of  them  are  com- 
mended, yet  of  all  of  them  except  Hezekiah  and  Josiah 
it  is  said  that  they  failed  to  remove  the  "  high  places." 

§  1358.  The  book  of  Kings  brings  a  new  feature  into 
Hebrew  historical  writing,  in  that  for  the  first  time  the 
sources  of  certain  facts  are  regularly  mentioned.  These 
are  for  the  first  division  "  the  book  of  the  acts  of  Solo- 
mon" (1  K.  xi.  41)  ;  for  the  Northern  Kingdom  "the  book 
of  the  Chronicles  of  the  kings  of  Israel ";  and  for  the 
Southern,  "  the  book  of  the  Chronicles  of  the  kings  of 
Judah."  ^  The  natural  supposition  is  that  allusion  is  made 
to  works  already  existing,  which  would  thus  seem  to  be  a 
digest  of  the  events  of  the  reigns  of  the  two  sets  of  kings 
and  of  their  principal  actions. ^  It  is  possible,  but  not  so 
probable,  that  the  official  annals  of  the  kingdom  are  in- 
tended. However,  it  was  from  them  that  the  information 
was  ultimately  obtained. 


1  I  need  scarcely  remind  any  of  my  readers  tliat  these  books  are  not  to 
be  confounded  with  the  canonical  books  of  Chronicles. 

2  How  little  there  is  in  Kings  of  "history"  in  the  modern  sense  is  seen 
for  example  in  the  account  of  Azariah  (Uzziah),  the  most  inrtuential  king 
that  ever  reigned  over  .Tudah.  Of  his  public  life  nothing  whatever  is  said 
(2  Kings  XV.  1-7),  .so  that  we  get  our  knowledge  of  him  from  the  much- 
decried  Clironicles  and  the  Assyrian  inscriptions. 

2c 


•  'A 


H 


11 


Wr'^n 


i  ,'H 


I'.l, 


11 


:  i  1' 


life' 


sso 


SOURCES  AND  DATE   OF  KINGS 


Book  XI 


§  1359.  A  second  principal  element  in  this  work  is  a 
series  of  stories  interrupting  the  skeleton-like  record  of  tho 
reifjns  of  the  kings.  These  recitals  have  mostly  to  do  with 
the  temple  and  its  worship  and  the  acts  of  the  greatest  of 
the  prophets.  They  are  not  written  in  the  compiler's  own 
manner,  nor,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  in  the  manner  of  his 
time.  On  all  grounds  we  may  assume  that  they  formed 
part  of  compositions  already  existing.  Thus  we  have  in 
Kings  abundant  evidence  of  the  continuance  in  both  king- 
doms of  that  narrative  and  biographical  writing  which 
characterized  the  early  monarchy  (§  914  ff.). 

§  1360.  The  date  of  the  composition  of  Kings  cannot 
be  fixed  with  absolute  certainty.^  That  additions  were 
made  during  the  Exile  is  clear,  and  the  prevailing  opinion 
of  critics  now  is  that  the  work  had  two  Deuteronomic  re- 
dactors, the  former  doing  his  work  about  600  B.C.,  and  the 
other  perhaps  towards  the  end  of  the  Exile.  It  is  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  the  former  completed  his  task  with 
the  account  of  the  reformation  of  Josiah,  and  the  latter 
concluded  his  with  the  story  of  Jehoiachin  (2  K.  xxv.  27— 
30).  The  authorship  it  is  useless  to  conjecture.  It  is 
enough  to  say  that  the  work  was  the  product  of  a  formal 
priestly-prophetic  school,  and  that  this  was  not  (cf.  §  1068)- 
the  school  of  Jeremiah.'^ 

§  1361.  In  the  spirit  of  Deuteronomy  a  revision  and  re- 
adjustment were  made  of  Deuteronomy  itself,  which  was 
enlarged  by  the  addition  of  chs.  i.-iv.,  an  historical,  and 
v.-xi.,  a  hortatory  introduction ;  also  of  chs.  xxvii.,  xxix., 
XXX.;  chs.  xxxi.  to  xxxiv.  being  added  after  the  Exile 
(cf.  §  847).     Judges  was  made  virtually  as  we  have  it. 


■'if 


I: 


*  Passages  such  as  2  Kings  viii.  22  ;  xvi.  6  ("unto  this  day  "),  merely 
indicate  that  the  compiler  was  not  always  careful  about  his  method  of 
quoting  from  his  sources ;  for  "  this  day  "  is  there  clearly  not  his  day. 

2  Who  was  formerly  held  to  have  written  the  book !  Even  Driver 
(Intr.^  p.  199)  says  that  "the  compiler  was  a  man  like-minded  with  Jere- 
miah." There  was  as  much  mental  and  moral  kinship  between  them  a» 
there  was  between  the  priest  Newman  and  the  prophet  Carlyle. 


r 


Cii.  II,  §  1.103 


RITUAL  AND   PSALMS 


387 


without  the  later  addition  of  chs.  xx.,  xxi.  Sotnethiiig 
simihir  may  ho  said  of  Samuel,  whose  Deuteronojnic  foiin 
is  reached  by  taking  away  the  Song  of  Hannah  and  ch. 
xxii.  of  the  second  book  (§  900),  these  being  of  later  date. 

§  1302.  For  the  ritual  and  ceremonial  service  of  the 
futuie  Israel  (§  13');j)  an  im[)ortant  work  was  done  by 
the  composition  of  the  so-called  "Law  of  Ilolinciss"  * 
found  in  Lev.  xvii.-xxvi.  It  consists  maiidy  of  ordinances 
relating  to  ceremonial  cleainiess,  to  the  Sabbath,  the  great 
feasts,  and  the  teni[)le  service.  Its  association  with  Deuter- 
onomy is  shown  in  its  hortatory  conclusion  and  its  insistence 
upon  a  single  central  sanctuary.  This  is  not  quite  so 
significant  of  its  date  as  is  its  more  striking  resemblance  to 
Ezek.  xl.-xlviii.  (§  1344).  Like  Ezekiel's  scheme,  it  goes 
beyond  Deuteionomy  by  its  minutiic  of  })rescription,  being 
thus  intermediate  between  I)  and  P  in  method  and  spirit. 
The  chief  interest  is  sacerdotal  and  ceremonial.  We  may 
assume  that  it  was  intended  as  a  law-book  for  the  new 
Jerusalem  of  EzekicU  and  written  by  a  pupil  of  that 
priest-prophet  in  the  latter  half  of  the  Exile. 

§  1363.  Prophecy  in  the  Exile  has  already  been  dis- 
cussed for  the  first  half  of  the  period.  Its  continuation 
belongs  to  the  closing  years  of  the  Babylonian  monarchy, 
and  the  history  of  its  literary  treatment  is  in  large  part 
post-exilic.  But  a  word  must  be  said  on  the  difficult 
yet  pressing  question  of  exilic  Psalms.  On  the  question 
of  pre-exilic  Psalms  we  have  already  spoken  (§  605,  909). 
If  we  disabuse  our  minds  of  the  notion  that  the  Psalms 
in  general  were  written  for  liturgical  purposes,  and  ac- 
knowledge that  the  most  original  and  vital  of  the  sacred 
songs  of  Israel  were,  like  the  choicest  hymns  of  every 
other  countiy  and  time,  the  offspring  of  an  intense  and 
deep  religious  life,  we  shall  see  at  once  that  no  period 
of  Israel's  history  was  more  likely  to  give  rise  to  such 

1  A  modern  name,  happily  suggested  by  Klostermann,  on  the  ground 
of  the  ruling  idea  of  the  work  as  given  in  Lev,  xix.  2.  As  we  have  it,  it 
is  imbedded  in  the  work  of  P.     It  is  known  mystically  as  H. 


I    V 


r  * 

■    i 
■M 

<     * 

.':    i' 

388 


PSALMS  OF  THE   EXILE 


Book  XI 


poems  of  the  heart  than  was  the  Exile.  Hence,  to  make 
as  small  a  choice  as  possible,  it  may  be  conceded  on  in- 
ternal grounds  that  at  least  Ps,  xxii.,  li.,  Ixix.,  Ixxi.,  Ixxxiv., 
cii.  belong  to  this  period  of  suffering  and  probation.  Others, 
such  as  Ps.  cxxvi.  and  cxxxvii.,  written  in  Palestine  after 
the  first  Return,  belong  virtually  to  the  same  period. 


till  .. 


Book  XI 


CHAPTER  III 


THE  CHALD/EAN  DOMINION 


II 


§  1364.  The  reign  of  Nebuchadrezzar  was  long  and 
prosperous.  His  devotion  to  the  material  and  spiritual 
development  of  his  own  proper  country  kept  him  from 
the  ambition  and  the  curse  of  Assyrian  imperialism.  Our 
interest  in  him  as  a  ruler  is,  therefore,  an  interest  in  civili- 
zation and  patriotism.  His  influence  on  the  destiny  and 
character  of  Israel,  which  was  of  more  consequence  to 
the  world  than  all  his  other  achievements  combined,  was 
an  indirect  consequence  of  this  statesmanlike  policy.  Of 
his  wars  after  the  f.  11  of  Jerusalem  in  his  eighteenth 
year  (586  B.C.),  we  know  but  little,  for  reasons  already 
given  (§  1053,  note).  There  is  no  good  reason  to  suppose 
that  they  were  numerous.  Thost  with  Egypt  and  Tyre, 
which  are  of  the  greatest  biblical  interest,  were  certainly 
the  most  important  of  them. 

§  1365.  The  war  with  Egj^pt  consisted  of  a  series  of 
intermittent  campaigns.  Its  main  motive  was  to  mjike  it 
impossible  for  Egypt  to  again  seize  upon  Palestine  and 
Syria.  This  war  and  also  that  with  Tyre  have  a  biblical 
importance  in  connection  with  the  prophecies  of  Jeremiah 
and  Ezekiel.  This  makes  regrettable  the  absence  of  full 
information  regarding  them.  The  general  situation,  how- 
ever, is  clear  enough.  The  twenty-sixth  Egj'ptian  dynasty, 
or  that  of  Sais  (§  1030),  as  we  have  seen,  had  great  com- 
mercial aims  and  enterprise,  and  sought  to  secure  the 
trade  of  the  Mediterranean.  For  the  most  part  at  least, 
a  close  alliance  was  maintained  with  Tyre,  which  placed 

389 


I   ; 


I ' 


:'■'      I 


I'^i 


|i     ! 


m 


^fnv?" 

Ml 

{ 

Vl;. 


I; 
^<     i; 
;! 


i;- 


390 


BABYLONIA  AND  EGYPT 


Book  XI 


its  ships  at  the  disposal  of  Egypt.^  Tyre,  being  besides 
an  ally  of  Judah  in  the  revolt  of  Zedekiah,  was  besieged 
by  Nebuchadrezzar  in  585,  just  after  the  fall  of  Jerusa- 
lem. It  sustained  a  blockade  by  land  of  thirteen  years,^ 
the  besieging  forces  with  all  the  ships  they  could  muster 
(cf.  §  681)  not  being  able  to  cut  off  supplies  by  water. 
Egypt  was  also  invaded  while  Pharaoh  Hophra  (Apries), 
the  ally  of  Zedekiah,  was  still  on  the  throne.  An  Egyp- 
tian inscription  mentions  that  the  Babylonian  army 
overran  Egypt  as  far  as  its  southerly  border  at  Syene 
(Assouan).  Egypt,  therefore,  for  a  time  was  subject  or, 
at  least,  tributary  to  Babylonia.  The  next  ruler,  Amasis, 
a  general  under  Hophra,  was  made  king  by  the  native 
Egyptian  troops  in  an  uprising  against  the  Greek  and 
Carian  mercenaries  who  were  favoured  by  Hophra.^  At 
his  Jiscension  he  would  seem  to  have  thrown  off  the 
Babylonian  suzerainty,  for  the  thirty-seventh  year  of  Neb- 
uchatlrezzar,  in  which  an  expedition  was  made  against 
Egypt  (§  1053,  note),  falls  in  507,  soon  after  the  Egyptian 
revolution.  This,  however,  was  near  the  close  of  the 
Great  King's  reign,  and  there  is  no  evidence  from  any 
source  that  the  subjugation  of  Egypt  was  effected  anew. 
Perhaps  it  was  found  that  in  the  divided  and  weakened 
condition  of  tliat  country  there  was  little  danger  of 
another  invasion  of  Asia. 

§  13G6.  The  biblical  prophecies  I'egarding  these  events 
are  lengthy  and  specific.  Jeremiah's  predictions,  given  in 
chs.  xlvi.  13  ff.,  were  uttered  in  view  of  the  impending 
retreat  of  Pharaoh  Necho*  from  Syria  and  Palestine  before 

1  Herodotus  (11,  161)  asserts  that  Hophra  marched  against  Sidoii  and 
fought  a  naval  battle  with  Tyre.  This  must  iiave  taken  place  at  the 
beginning  of  his  reign,  and  hostile  relations  were  only  temporary. 

2  Josephus  against  Apion,  ii,  21. 
8  Herod.  II,  1(W,  100. 

♦  Noteworthy  is  the  imitation  of  Isa.  xxx.  7,  gained  by  a  slight  change 
in  the  pointing  of  v.  17  :  Call  the  name  of  IMiaraoh  king  of  Egypt, 
"  A  noise,  that  lets  the  occasion  |)ass  "  —  in  Engli.sh  phrase,  "  a  blusterer 
that  misses  his  chance  "  (sue  Giesebrecht  on  the  passage). 


Book  XI 

ig  besides 
I  besieged 
)f  Jerusa- 
seu  years,2 
Id  muster 
by  water. 
(Apries), 
An  Egyp- 
ian    army 
at   Syene 
ubject  or, 
%  Amasis, 
he  native 
reek   and 
lira.''     At 
1   off   the 
iY  of  Neb- 
e   against 
Eg3^ptian 
e   of   the 
from  any 
ed  anew, 
veakened 
anger   of 

se  events 

given  in 

ipendijig 

lie  before 

Sitl(jii  and 
lace  at  the 


ght  chanpe 
of  Efrypt, 
a  blusttjror 


Ch.  Ill,  §  1367  COMMENTS  OF   PROPHECY 


391 


the  army  of  Nebuchadrezzar  (cf.  §  1089).  Among  other 
calamities,  the  destruction  of  Memphis  (v.  19)  and  the 
capture  of  Thebes  (v.  25  f.)  are  foretold.  Briefer,  but 
equally  explicit,  is  the  prediction  at  Tahpanhes  in  xliii. 
10  ff.  (cf.  §  1255).  Ezekiel  discourses  of  Egypt  and  its 
fate  in  four  chapters  (xxix.-xxxii.),  delivered  just  before 
and  after  the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  except  the  later  brief 
prophecy  (xxix.  17-21).  The  oracles  are  modelled  upon 
the  same  generfvl  plan,  the  overthrow  of  Egypt  and  its 
king  being  set  forth  in  all,  but  with  a  variety  of  detail. 
Striking  figures  are  employed  and  elaborated:  the  croco- 
dile of  the  Nile  (xxix.  3  ff.;  xxxii.  2  ff.),  the  lofty,  cedar- 
like Assyria  (xxxi.  2  ff.).  The  king  of  Babylon  is  the 
agent  of  destruction,  but  he  is  a  mere  passive  instrument 
in  Jehovah's  hands  (xxx.  10  ff.,  24  ff.).^  Very  singular  is 
the  later  prophecy  above  alluded  to,  which  was  delivered 
fifteen  years  after  the  latest  of  the  others  (cf.  xxix.  17 
with  xxxii.  17).  In  it  Egypt  is  promised  to  Nebuchadrez- 
zar as  a  recompense  for  his  failure  to  gain  anything  by  his 
campaign  against  Tyre.  Here  the  Great  King  is  described 
plainly  as  a  servant  of  Jehovah,  to  whom  he  was  to  look 
for  his  wages.  It  is  the  image  of  a  mercenary  soldier, 
whose  pay  depends  upon  his  success. 

§  1367.  In  view  of  this  latest  oracle  another  series  of 
prophecies  is  more  remarkable  still.  These  are  directed 
against  Tyre  (chs.  xxvi.-xxviii.)  and  Sidon  (xxviii.  20- 
24).  The  first  discourse  was  given  toward  the  end  of  586, 
the  year  of  the  fall  of  Jerusalem  (xxvi.  1,  2)  ;  the  otlier 
two  are  not  dated,  but  belong  to  the  same  period.  In  ch. 
xxvi.  a  detailed  description  is  given  of  the  impending  siege 
of  the  city  by  Nebuchadrezzar,  of  the  capture  of  the  sub- 
urbs, of  the  taking  of  the  metropolis  and  the  slaughter  of 
its  people,  its  utter  destruction  and  perpetual  desolation. 
In  ch.  xxvii.  Tyre  is  represented  as  a  splendid  merchant 

1  For  other  points  see  the  summary  in  Davidson's  Ezokid  ("  Cambridjie 
Bible"),  p.  210  ff.  Note  especially  the  concluding  dirf;e  (xxxii.  17-'V_'), 
vhich  Davidsiuu  callii  '*  uuu  uf  thu  mout  wuird  passages  in  litcralurc." 


4 


^.;ir 


!!      i 


^'  i 


I?-  I 


K  -M 


L 


392 


KVlL-MKRODACIl   KING  IN  BABYLON 


Book  XI 


vessel  laden  with  the  produce  of  all  lands,  and  at  hist 
wrecked  amid  the  lamentations  of  all  the  merchants  and 
mariners  of  the  world.  In  ch.  xxviii.  a  lament  is  uttered 
over  the  fall  of  the  ruler  of  Tyre,  in  spite  of  his  sagacity, 
skill,  wealth,  and  magnificence.  Yet  at  the  close  of  the 
thirteen  years'  siege  ^  the  prophet  states  plainly  that 
Nebuchadrezzar  gained  nothing  by  his  operations.  This 
is  perhaps  the  plainest  instance  in  Scripture  of  the  condi- 
tional character  of  prophetic  prediction.^  The  prophet's 
secular  learning  was  not  displayed  in  vain  ;  for  ch.  xxvii. 
gives  us  the  fullest  description  of  I'ha'nician  vessels  and 
commerce  that  has  come  to  us  from  antiquity. 

§  1368.  In  562  the  greatest  kingly  career  that  Western 
Asia  had  known  was  ended  by  the  death  of  Nebuchadrez- 
zar. He  passed  away  full  of  years  and  honours,  leaving 
an  empire  which  to  all  outward  appearance  might  last  fc»r 
centuries.  In  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  it  went  tlie 
Avay  of  the  Assyrian.  The  tale,  brief  as  it  is,  is  well  worth 
the  telling.  The  motives  of  the  catastroi)he  lie  without 
as  well  as  within  Babylonia  and  its  people.  External  as- 
saults from  the  rising  Aryan  power  might  in  any  case  have 
brought  it  about  eventually,  but  it  was  accelerated  by  its 
own  lack  of  inner  cohesiveness  and  by  misgovernment. 

§  1369.  The  successor  of  Nebuchadrezzar  was  his  son 
Evil-Merodach  (^Amel-Marduk,  "the  man  or  servant  of  Me- 
rodach").  His  reign  lasted  but  two  years.  As  we  have  no 
inscription  from  him  as  yet,  we  learn  of  him  only  from  a 
brief  biblical  notice  (2  K.  xxv.  27),  and  from  a  sentence 
in  Josephus  which  says,  on  the  authority  of  Berossus,  that 
lie  governed  lawlessly  and  wantonly.-'     This  does  not  well 


ii' 


^  The  siege  ended  in  572,  and  this  final  prophecy  was  given  in  570. 

2  Not  of  "prophecy,"  as  is  usually  said.  "Conditional  prophecy"  is 
an  unmeaning  phrase.  Observe,  by  the  way,  that  even  tliis  latest  expedi- 
tion against  Egypt,  of  whose  preparation  Ezekiel  was  aware  in  570,  did 
not  bring  great  success  to  Nebuchadrezzar  (§  13(ir)). 

"  ivbixui  Kal  d(r«\7wi  (Against  Apion,  i,  20).  Another  allusion  in  Ant. 
X,  11,  2,  merely  repeats  the  biblical  statement. 


If 


Cii.  Ill,  §  l.'Hl 


KING   NEKIGLISSAR 


303 


agree  with  the  magnanimous  deed  ascribed  to  him  in 
Kings.  The  liberation  and  honouring  of  Jelioiaehin  was 
of  course  only  one  of  a  number  of  similar  actions.  Per- 
haps, as  has  been  suggested,'  he  was  not  very  deferential 
to  the  dominant  priestly  paity,  to  whom  the  harsh  judg- 
ment is  to  be  traced.  At  any  rate  his  reign  was  very 
short,  lasting  but  two  years.  He  was  slain  in  a  revolt 
headed  by  his  sister's  husband  Neiiglissar  (^Ni-rf/al-mr-uxiir, 
"  Nergal  protect  the  king  !  "),  who  naturally  took  his  place 
upon  the  throne  (500-550). 

§  1370.  Neriglissar  vied  with  his  father-in-law*''  in 
building  up  Babylon,  regulating  the  Euphrates,  repairing 
the  palaces  and  especially  the  temples.  'J'his,  in  fact,  is 
the  sum  of  what  is  known  of  his  reign.  He  ajjpears,  how- 
ever, as  an  important  personage  in  several  contract-tablets 
of  the  reign  of  Nebuchadrezzar.  He  was  probably  the 
"  Nergalshareser "  of  Jer.  xxxix.  3,  13,  who  was  one  of 
the  officers  entrusted  with  the  care  of  the  captured  city 
of  Jerusalem  (§  1233,  note).^  If  this  is  so,  he  was  a  con- 
temporary of  Nebuchadrezzar  himself,  and  his  brief  reign 
of  four  years  may  have  been  terminated  by  old  age.  He 
was  succeeded  by  his  son,  Labasi-Marduk,  the  "  Labaro- 
soarchod"  of  Berossus-Josephus,  who  reigned,  however, 
but  nine  months  (556),  when  he  was  slain  by  a  conspiracy 
of  nobles. 

§  1371.  One  of  the  participants  of  the  plot  was  a  mag- 
nate named  Nabonidus  {Nabu-nakl,  "Nebo  is  exalted""), 
who  was  elected  king  and  reigned  till  the  downfall  of  the 
empire  (556-539).     From  him  we  have  several  important 


'■i 


I     I     .  li 


\:,\- 


in  in  Atit. 


1  Winckler,  GBA.  p.  314. 

2  Tliis  relationship  seems  indubitable,  but  strangely  enough  Neriglissar, 
in  the  longer  of  his  two  known  inscriptions  (the  Cambridge  cylinder,  I  K. 
67,  col.  i,  14),  calls  his  father  Bel-sum-iskun,  "king  of  Babylon."  This 
puzzle  has  given  rise  to  much  conjecture.  See  Tiele,  BAG.  j).  4(i5  f.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  Nabopala.ssar  made  any  one  joint-king  with  him.  Yet 
this  is,  after  all,  the  most  probable  hypothesis,  especially  as  the  name  of 
Neriglissar  would  seem  to  indicate  royal  paternity. 

3  Cf.  Winckler,  GBA.  p.  338  (note  81). 


|r:' 


1  '.n 


lU. 


!i    I 


km-'^   is 


p 

''; 

;v1i  , 

f 

p:.; 

I 

1- 

1 

■     '! 

i 

f 

304 


THE   LAST  KING,   NABONIDUS 


Book  XI 


personal  inscriptions ;  ^  and  very  many  business-tablets  of  his 
time  have  also  been  found.  He  is  famous  as  an  explorer 
of  ancient  ruins  and  their  buried  records,  and  also  as  a 
builder  and  renewer  of  temples.  His  chief  distinction, 
however,  is  that  he  paid  more  attention  to  the  temples 
of  the  gods  outside  of  the  district  of  Babylon  ^  than  he 
did  to  those  of  the  capital  itself.  Add  to  this  the  fact 
that  he  preferred  not  to  reside  in  the  capital,  but  lived  in 
a  suburban  town  named  Tema.  The  command  of  the  army 
fell  to  his  son  Belshazzar  (^Bel-mr-umr,  "  Bel,  protect  the 
king ! "),  whose  name  is  familiar  to  us  from  the  book  of 
Dauiel,  and  who  played  his  part  well  to  the  end.  Early 
ir.  i  i  reign  trouble  came  in  Mesopotamia,  but  it  was 
lemoeo  by  outside  interference  (§  1383).  On  the  whole, 
his  empire  held  well  together  by  inertia. 

j  '.872.  Y7as  his  policy  more  popular  with  his  people 
than  that  purtUt'  by  his  predecessors?  It  would  seem  to 
have  been  so  for  a  time  at  least.  Certainly  centralization 
had  been  carried  too  far.  The  temples  being  the  centres 
of  business,  as  well  as  the  boast  of  the  several  cities  of 
the  country,  the  aggrandizement  of  the  capital  actually 
at  length  impoverished  the  provincial  towns  and  threatened 
them  with  ruin  (cf.  §  1285  ff.).  At  any  rate,  this  course  of 
conduct  which  the  present  king's  religiousness  led  him 
to  pursue  was  welcome  to  the  outside  cities.  But  the 
time  came  when  something  more  than  piety  and  indiscrimi- 
nate temple-buildhig  was  demanded  of  the  ruler  of  Baby- 
lonia, and  the  people  of  the  capital  at  last  grew  indiffei'ent 
to  a  king  of  antiquarian  tastes  and  subterranean  habits. 

1  Published  in  IR.  68  and  09,  and  in  VR.  03-05.  All  of  the  inscrip- 
tions of  his  rt'isu  available  up  to  date,  11.S4  in  number,  are  given  in 
Strassmaier,  Inschriften  von  Xahonidus.  Koiii;/  von  Babylon  (1889).  Of 
the  transcriptions  and  translations  should  be  mentioned  V  R.  04  by 
Latrille  (with  commentary)  in  ZK.  II,  and  ZA.  I,  and  all  of  the  inscrip- 
tions in  I R.  and  V  R.  (with  the  addition  of  Br.  M.  85-4,  .SO.  2)  by  Peiser 
in  KB.  Ill,  ii,  p.  80-120  (1890).  For  his  annals,  or  the  "chronicle  of 
Nabonidus  and  Cyrus."  see  note  to  §  1382. 

2  For  his  work  at  Sippar,  in  the  temple  of  the  Sun-god,  see  §  87. 


^M 


■      ! 


Book  XI 



lets  of  his 
,  explorer 
also  as  a 
istinction, 
e  temples 
2  than  he 
J  the  fact 
t  lived  in 
t  the  army 
rotect  the 
e  book  of 
id.     Early 
ut  it   was 
the  whole, 

his  people 
[d  seem  to 
itralization 
he  centres 
1  cities  of 
1  actually 
hreatened 
course  of 
led  him 
But  the 
indiscrimi- 
of  Baby- 
ndifferent 
abits. 

the  inscrip- 
ire  given  in 
(1889).  Of 
V  K.  64  by 
tlie  inscrip- 
2)  by  reiser 
chronicle  of 

;§87. 


CHAPTER  IV 


CYRUS   AND  THE  PERSIANS 


§  1373.  We  have  arrived  at  the  point  of  time  when 
the  old  Semitic  regime  in  Western  Asia  gives  way 
to  the  Medo-Persian,  or  in  a  wider  sense  to  the  Aryan. 
Of  the  Medes  we  have  had  to  speak  repeatedly  as  a  chief 
agent  in  the  destruction  of  Nineveh.  Now  we  shall  have 
to  regard  them  and  their  Persian  congeners  as  partners  in 
a  still  greater  enterprise.  Both  of  them  were  offshoots  of 
the  Iranian  race.  The  Iranians  were  one  of  the  many 
branches  of  the  Indo-European  family.  This  people,  what- 
ever may  have  been  their  starting-place,  had  long  made 
northern  and  central  Europe  and  west  central  Asia  their 
home,  and  for  many  centuries  had  been  seeking  to  secure 
a  permanent  residence  in  more  southern  lands.  The 
Iranians  along  with  their  kindred,  the  Sanskrit-speaking 
people  of  Hindustan,  constitute  what  is  termed,  in  the 
strict  sense,  "Aryans."  They  were  also  closely  allied  to 
the  Scythians,  eastern  and  western,  and  the  Armenians. 
What  the  condition  of  the  Iranians  was  in  preliistoiical 
ages  we  can  only  vaguely  guess.  In  historical  times  we 
know  simply  that  along  with  the  more  or  less  civilized 
members  of  the  race  settled  in  Iran  itself,  there  were  great 
numbers  of  kindred  nomads  ranging  along  the  northern 
steppes.  From  the  settled  tribes  and  clans  was  derived 
the  name  "  Iran  "  (Ariana). 

§  1374.     Tlie  country  is  a  mountain  plateau  of  about 
fifteen  hundred  miles  in  breadth  stretching  from  the  Tigri.j 

3U5 


I  i< 


4' 


(  ! 


:  n 


,1 


I! 

Hi  '^t 


'I  il 


li 


IM 


Si  i' 


l^    i 


HI.:' 


1 

I 

i, 

: 

1 

! 
i 

* .»        ■   -t'-.f*^: 

i  i . 

306 


IRANIAN  TERRITORY  AND  RACE 


Book  XI 


to  the  Indus  .and  from  the  Persian  Gulf  to  the  present 
frontiers  of  Russia  in  Asia.  It  is  divided  into  Western 
and  Eastern  Iran  by  the  Great  Salt  Desert.  The  whole 
was  about  conterminous  with  the  modern  Persia,  Afghanis- 
tan, and  southern  Turkestan.  The  principal  seat  of  the 
early  Iranian  civilization  was  Baktria  on  the  northern  slopes 
of  the  Parapamisus  or  Ilindu-kush.  Tliis  also  seems  to 
have  been  the  distributing  centre  of  immigration,  which 
moved  in  two  main  streams.  One  passed  southward, 
occupying  the  whole  of  the  eastern  side  of  the  plateau  as 
far  as  the  modern  lieluchistan.  Thence  its  advance  guard 
marched  westward  below  the  salt  desert  and  took  up  the 
southwest  corner  of  the  highlands,  which  was  to  become 
the  kernel  of  the  Persian  empire,  and  was  known  to  the 
ancients  as  Persis.  The  other  migrators  moved  west- 
ward and  made  their  home  to  the  south  and  southwest 
of  the  Caspian,  where  they  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
Median  empire.  It  is  noteworthy  that  while  East  Iran 
was  settled  long  before  West  Iran,  which  was  not  occupied 
by  Aryans  till  the  eighth  and  seventh  centuries  B.C.,  it  was 
the  latter  which  gave  the  Iranians  their  place  in  history. 
The  cause  of  this  phenomenon  is  not  difficult  to  discover. 
Eastern  Iran  was  not  fertile  enough  to  form  large  centres 
of  population,  and  it  took  no  share  in  the  culture  of  India, 
where  the  other  great  branch  of  the  Aryans  had  early 
developed  its  own  literature,  philosophy,  and  art.  The 
art  of  writing  was  unknown  to  the  Iranians  till  they 
learned  it  from  their  western  neighbours,  to  whom,  indeed, 
they  owed  their  advance  in  civilization. 

§  1375.  The  ancient  people  of  Iran  were  a  vigorous 
race,  of  simple  temperate  habits,  and  in  their  new  home 
in  the  highlands  they  long  maintained  the  traditions  and 
customs  of  their  primitive  life  on  the  northern  plains.  The 
social  conditions  of  the  old  patriarchal  system  were  trans- 
ferred to  the  new  state  of  things  when  agriculture  be- 
came the  basis  of  the  community.  The  great  landholders 
formed  an  aristocracy  by  themselves,  to  whom  the  peas- 


Book  XI 

le  present 
)  Western 
riie  wliole 
Afghanis- 
eat  of  the 
lern  slopes 
»  seems  to 
on,  which 
louthward, 
plateau  as 
ince  guard 
3k  up  the 

0  become 
m\  to  the 
ved  west- 
southwest 
'US  of  the 
East  Iran 
;  occupied 
I.e.,  it  was 

1  history, 
discover. 

fe  centres 
of  India, 
lad  early 
■rt.  The 
till  they 
1,  indeed, 

vigorous 
ew  home 
ions  and 
ns.  The 
re  trans- 
ture  be- 
iholders 
le  peas- 


Cii.  IV,  §  1370 


IRANIAN  RELIGION 


;J07 


anta,  mechanics,  and  traders  were  alike  subordinated.  As 
larger  settlements  were  formed,  the  same  type  of  social 
and  civic  organization  was  continued  by  the  promotion  of 
the  more  intluential  members  of  the  ruling  class.  But  no 
very  extensive  communities  were  developed  in  East  Iran ; 
and  when  in  West  Iran  the  Median  monarchy  arose,  it  was 
founded  in  emulation  of  the  Assyrian  empire. 

§  1376.  What  chiefly  distinguished  the  Iranians  as  a 
people  and  gave  them  their  predominance  in  Asia  was 
their  religion.  The  Iranians  had  the  purest  form  of  faith 
and  worship  known  to  any  of  the  Indo-European  peoples. 
The  position  and  functions  assigned  to  the  chief  deity 
are  significant.  With  the  other  Indo-European  nations 
they  inherited  the  old  belief  in  the  supremacy  of  the  sky- 
god,  the  lord  of  the  shining  heavens,  invested  him  with  an 
active  personality,  and  ascribed  to  him  the  care  of  the 
lower  world.  The  Aryans  of  India  dethroned  liim  from 
his  ancient  seat,  and  exalted  in  his  place  a  series  of  gro- 
tesque and  impalpable  abstractions ;  while  the  Greeks  and 
Romans  and  other  Europeans  degraded  him  by  endowing 
him  with  the  baser  passions  of  tiie  men  whom  he  governed. 
In  both  cases  the  moral  ideal  was  unrealized.  The  Iranian 
religion  conserved  the  old  simple  childlike  trust  in  the 
supreme  dispenser  of  blessing,  and  it  added  to  him  other 
ennobling  attributes.  The  god  of  light  became  here  the 
god  of  truth  and  purity,  the  lord  of  wisdom  (Ahnra)nazthi, 
"  Ormazd "),  the  spirit  of  holiness,  through  whom  the 
blessings  of  which  creation  is  full  are  conveyed  to  tiie 
creatures.  To  him  was  oi)posed  the  spirit  of  evil,  of 
impurity,  of  falsehood,  of  death  and  destruction  (^A)i;/ra- 
manyu,  "  Ahriman"),  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  demons, 
who  continually  fight  against  the  good  and  righteous  spirit, 
and  fight  in  vain.  Fire,  the  perpetuatoi-  of  light,  was 
jprimarily  reverenced  as  its  finest  symbol,  and  the  great 
purifying  element.  Thus  truth  and  falsehood,  order  and 
disorder,  life  and  death,  were  arrayed  against  one  another 
.in  unchanging  antithesis ;   and  all  men  were  incited  to 


f! 

1  .'              '! 

i':l!'''r 

r. 

I'^s  r 

t''          ■      !;■ 

i'!' 

'     r. 

'!■ 

'      .  -'i 

t 

!'■  t.         '   • 

1      ■ 

■l 

I     ''  1 

iif 

1 

11  !i 

11   -t 


i*\\- 


it  Ml:   ■'. 


:m 


« 


i'ffl 


P-- 

■f 

1 

^^^^^B  '*' 

1: 

ink 

808 


CONTRAST  WITH   SEMITISM 


BuoK  XI 


become  allies  of  the  i)ower8  of  good  in  their  war  upon  the 
powers  of  evil.  To  every  man  life  must  be  an  unbroken 
campaign  against  malignant  foes  within  and  without,  who, 
even  though  perpetually  vanquished,  were  never  slain. 
This  conflict  must  be  real.  Every  subject  of  Ahuramazda 
was  thus  called  to  a  holy  war  without  reprieve  or  discharge. 
Every  good  action  would  advance  the  kingdom  of  the  just, 
and  every  bad  deed  retard  the  final  overthrow  of  the  realm 
of  evil.  Nor  was  the  motive  confined  to  this  world  alone. 
After  life  was  ended,  the  spirit  (^FravasJii)  of  the  faithful 
warrior  was  transported  to  the  realm  of  Ahuramazda, 
where  he  continued  to  be  the  helper  of  his  descendants 
still  on  the  earth.  Hence  arose  the  highest  type  of  ancestor- 
worship  known  to  men.  Where  deification  was  impossi- 
ble, veneration,  pure  and  intense,  was  kept  within  the 
bounds  of  reason. 

§  1377.  Such  are  some  of  the  principles  of  the  Iranian 
religion.  In  spite  of  its  necessary  dualism,  it  was  thus 
a  noble  spiritual  and  ethical  system.  When  we  consider 
that  such  principles  as  these  were  cherished  by  the  rulers 
of  the  race  in  its  conflict  with  Semitism,  we  are  at  once 
struck  with  the  contrast  to  that  system  of  thought  and 
action  which  had  held  sway  so  long  over  the  peoples  of 
Western  Asia.  This  contrast  has  not  escaped  the  notice 
of  broad-minded  historians.  "  The  monarchy  of  Persia," 
observes  Ranke,  "  fulfils  a  lofty  mission.  It  has  other 
aims  in  view  than  conquest  and  plunder.  It  rises  far 
above  the  cruel  Assyrian  monarchy.  For  the  divinities 
of  Iran,  pure  and  shining  like  the  hosts  of  heaven,  demand 
neither  hecatombs  nor  licentious  rites.  They  are  not  to 
be  imitated  by  destroying  life,  but  by  increasing  and 
developing  it.  If  they  make  war,  it  is  not  from  motives 
of  ambition,  but  to  triumph  over  the  powers  of  evil,  to 
assure  the  final  victory  of  the  god  of  life.  Asshur  and  the 
goddess  who  for  the  most  part  is  named  with  him  are 
warrior  deities.  Ahuramazda  is  a  god  of  righteousness 
and  truth.     Subjection  means,  with  the  Assyrians,  subju- 


Book  XI 

'  upon  the 
unbroken 
lout,  who, 
ver  slain, 
luramazda 
clischarge. 
f  the  just, 
the  realm 
rid  alone. 
e  faithful 
iramazda, 
jcendants 
ancestor- 
impossi- 
ithin  the 

)  Iranian 
was  thus 
I  consider 
le  rulera 

at  once 
ght  and 
oples  of 
notice 
U^ersia," 
other 

ses  far 
vinities 

emand 

not  to 

ig  and 

notives 

vil,  to 

nd  the 

ra  are 

usness 

subju- 


Cii.  IV,  §  1378 


rmST   PERSIAN   DYNASTY 


809 


gation  by  violence;  with  the  Persians,  the  fultilnient  of 
a  supreme  will."  ^ 

§  1378.  Few  words  are  needed  to  tell  all  that  is  known 
of  the  early  histoiy  of  that  branch  of  the  race  which  lias 
given  historical  importance  to  the  Iranians.  Exactly  when 
tlic  little  district  of  Persia  (§  1374)  was  settled  by  the 
peoples  who  gave  it  the  name  is  not  certain.  It  was  at 
all  events  some  time  after  the  rise  of  the  Medes  (§  823  f.). 
All  the  kings  of  old  Persia  trace  their  descent  from  Achte- 
menes  {Ha/chdinanish).  He  was  the  fourth  ancestor  of 
Cyrus  the  Great,^  and  may  possibly  have  been  tlie  founder 
of  Persis ;  that  is  to  say,  the  lirst  of  the  Persian  chiefs  who 
maintained  a  permanent  settlement  in  that  district.  His 
son  Teispes  is  the  first  who  is  named  as  king,^  and  that  not 
king  of  Persis,  but  king  of  Anshan,  a  title  by  which  all  his 
successoi-s  are  also  named  as  far  as  Cyrus  the  Great.  This 
Anshan  (also  written  Anzan)  is  a  very  ancient  region  of 
southern  Elam,  which,  probably  about  595  B.C.  (§  1263), 
after  the  Assyrians  had  relaxed  their  hold  upon  that  coun- 
try, was  occupied  by  a  Persian  colony*  and  made  into  a 
kingdom,  after  the  pattern  of  the  northern  and  western  na- 

1  Quoted  by  Pressensfe,  The  Ancient  World  and  Christianity,  p.  138. 

2  For  convenience  the  ancestry  of  the  two  earliest  lines  of  Persian  kings 
may  be  appended.     The  names  are  given  in  the  forms  employed  by  the 

classical  writers. 

1.  Achaemenea 

2.  Teispes 


3.  Cyrus  I 

4.  Cambyses  I 

5.  Cyrus  II 

6.  Cambyses  II 


3.  Ariaramnes 

4.  Arsames 

5.  Hystaspes 

6.  Darius  I 


Cf.  Tiele,  BAG.  p.  469 ;  and  on  the  possible  ways  of  reconciling  the 
lists  of  Herodotus,  Darius,  and  Cyrus,  Winckler,  UAG,  p.  120  fi.  ;  Host, 
in  MVG.  (1897),  p.  208  f.  The  genealogy  of  Cyrus  is  given  in  his  Cylin- 
der inscription  (VR.  36)  1.  20-22  ;  that  of  Darius  in  his  Behistun  inscrip- 
tion, and  in  Herod.  VII,  11. 

8  By  Cyrus,  VR.  35,21. 

*  Rost,  in  MVG.  (1897),  p.  205  f.,  points  out  the  importance  of  Susa,  the 
old  Elamitic  capital,  in  the  early  history  of  the  Persian  empire. 


If 

,  M  ■■  '; 

..v:, 

■  ' 

'■■•  t'     X 

t 

::iP 


!     'I! 


I! 


.  ,,  1 

■ 

i 

\ 

J: 

i 

I' 

1-  '■: 

w 

i 


»!  ■'. 


400 


MEDIANS  AND   LYDIANS 


Book  XT 


tions.  But  the  nunie  of  Persian  was  always  borne  by  all 
the  i"ace,  and  it  is  therefore  probable  that  Persis  itself  re- 
mained the  chief  centre  of  pojjuiation.  Anshan,  however, 
became  tributary  to  Media,  as  this  empire  extended  itself 
over  the  old  Assyrian  provinces  east  of  the  Tigris. 

§  1379.  Under  the  policy  of  mutual  tolerance  r 
friendship  i)ursued  by  the  Medes  and  Chaldieans,  , 
former  at  length  extended  their  dominion  westward  over 
all  the  uplands  as  far  as  the  river  Halys.  This  was  done 
in  the  lifetime  of  Cyaxares,  the  conqueror  of  Nineveh, 
who  reigned  till  584  n.c.  The  Ilalys,  indeed,  was  fixed 
as  the  boundary  by  a  remarkable  international  agreement. 
We  have  had  occjision  to  mention  the  early  kings  of  Lydia 
(§  778  ff.)  down  to  Alyattes  III  (617-500),  who  finally 
ex[)elled  from  his  borders  the  Kimmerian  raiders  that  had 
long  disturbed  the  peace  of  his  kingdom.  Alyattes  was 
the  real  founder  of  Lydian  greatness.  With  the  expulsion 
•of  the  Kimmerians,  Phrygia  and  Hithynia  fell  under  hi" 
power.  Many  of  the  Greek  cities  of  the  coast  submitf 
to  him.  In  his  eastward  progress  he  met  the  advancl..^ 
forces  of  Cyaxares,  king  of  the  Medes ;  and  for  several 
years  war  was  fiercely  waged  between  them.  On  May  28, 
685,  occurred  that  famous  battle  which  was  interrupted 
'by  an  eclipse  of  the  sun,  said  to  have  been  foretold  by 
Thales  of  Miletus.  Nebuchadrezzar  of  Babylon  and  the 
king  of  Cilicia  offered  to  mediate,  since  it  was  to  their 
interest  that  the  balance  of  power  should  be  maintained. 
It  was  by  the  ensuing  treaty  that  the  boundary  was  settled. 

§  1380.  After  the  compromise,  Lydia  continued  to 
thrive  apace.  With  the  acquisition  of  Greek  colonies  on 
the  coast  it  gained  much  culture  and  greater  wealth. 
Through  its  trade  with  east  and  west  it  became  a  great 
commercial  nation,  whose  monument  is  the  coiujige  of 
money,  first  devised  in  Lydia.  In  560,  Alyattes  was  suc- 
ceeded by  his  more  famous  son  Croesus,  under  whom  pros- 
perity was  more  than  maintained.  In  584,  Cyaxares  died: 
.his  successor  was  Astyages.     Nebuchadrezzar  died  in  562. 


It  ■  ■  ■■ , 
1K 'li 


(    :  ■  I 


ii 


n»)OK  XI 

J 

ine  by  all 

itself  re- 

however, 

(led  itself 

ance   r 
eans,    ,    . 
v^aid  over 
was  done 
Nineveh, 
was  fixed 
greement. 
}  of  Lydia 
ho  finally 
that  had 
attes  was 
expulsion 
under  hi" 
subniitf 
idvanel..^ 
)r  several 
1  May  28, 
terrupted 
retold  by 
and  the 
to  their 
intained. 
,s  settled, 
nued    to 
onies  on 
■  wealth, 
a  great 
linage   of 
Iwas  sue- 
)m  pros- 
les  died : 
in  562. 


Cii.  IV,  §  1^82 


CYKl'S 


401 


The  sole  heir  of  tlie  empires  of  Croesus,  Astyages,  and 
Nebuchadrezzar  was  neither  a  Lydian,  nor  a  Median,  nor 
a  Habylonian,  but  Cyrus  the  Persian,  the  conqueror  of  Asia, 
the  liberator  of  the  Jews,  "  the  friend  and  the  anointed  of 
Jehovah." 

§  1381.  The  fame  of  Cyrus  was  so  great  among  tho 
Greeks  that  they  retailed  fictions  without  end  about  his 
birth,  his  life,  and  his  death.  Plis  influence  upon  the  world 
was  such  that  an  extensive  supernatural  machinery  was 
required  to  explain  the  catastrophes  which  he  wrought. 
I  shall  have  to  pass  over  the  entertaining  stories  which 
have  been  related  about  his  infancy  and  childhood.  They 
are  not  idle  tales,  because  they  had  a  serious  motive.  But 
they  are  not  history.  They  are  partly  traditions,  partly 
legends,  and  in  the  Greek  handling  at  least  very  largely 
myths.  Most  of  them  describe  him  ii-;  having  been  of 
lowly  origin  but  accompanied  from  his  birth  by  dreams, 
portents,  and  marvellous  auspices  in  general,  till  his  great 
merits  attested  the  fitness  of  the  supernatural  omens. 

§  1382.  Cyrus  (^Kurash)  was  born  about  590  B.C.,  one 
hundred  years  before  the  battle  of  Marathon.  He  was  a 
son  of  Cambyses  I,  and  the  second  of  the  name.  Of  his 
childhood  and  youth  we  really  know  nothing.  It  is  not 
possible  that  he  was  tlie  grandson  of  Astyages  the  Mede, 
as  Herodotus  and  Xenophon  assert.  The  first  authentic 
notice  reveals  him  already  as  an  antagonist  of  Astyages, 
and  at  the  same  time  throws  a  new  and  unexpected  light 
upon  the  history  of  the  time.  It  occurs  in  the  annals  or 
state  chronicle  of  Nabonidus,^  in  the  record  made,  as  it 

1  Col.  II,  1  ff.  The  entry  of  the  year,  as  well  as  the  beginning  of  the 
statement  itself,  is  broken  off,  but  the  next  entry  is  '"year  seventii." 
This  document,  sometimes  called  the  "  Nabonidus-Cyrus  Clironiole,"  lias 
been  published  last  by  ().  E.  Hagen  in  his  treatise  "  Ki'ilschriflurkundcn 
znr  Geschichti;  des  ICnnif/s  Q/r!<s,"  in  BA.  II,  p.  '205-2r)7.  It  was  first 
edited  by  Pinches  in  1880  (TSBA.  VII,  1150-17(5),  Wincklcr  also  gives  the 
original  text  in  UAG.  p.  154  f.  I'inches  and  H.agen  have  a  transcription, 
translation,  and  commentary  ;  and  Schrader  in  KB.  Ill,  ii,  p.  128-l;'.0, 
gives  a  transcription  and  translation.  I  cite  it  as.  Nab.  Annals. 
2d 


4 


I 


.!!■ 


'  vi 


I  ., 


! HI  'i 


|;i 


:■  ■!: 


t  ■'!■■ 


If    'hi;!.  .'  i 


402 


SCYTHIANS   AND   MEDES  SUBJECTED         Book  XI 


seems,  for  the  sixth  year  (550),  and  runs  as  follows: 
"  [Astyages  his  army]  assembled  and  marched  against 
Cyrus,  king  of  Anshan  to  take  [him  prisoner] .  Astyages 
his  army  revolted  against  him,  seized  him  and  gave  [him] 
up  to  Cyrus.  Cyrus  (marched)  to  Agamtanu  (Ecbatana). 
Silver,  gold,  goods  and  chattels  of  all  sorts  he  carried  as 
spoil  to  Anshan." 

§  1383.  Shortly  after  this  record  was  made  Nabonidus,  in 
a  famous  inscription  already  referred  to  (§  87),  gives  impor- 
tant additional  facts.  He  was  eager  to  rebuild  the  deci-yed 
temple  of  Sin  in  Charran.  He  relates  how  Merodach,  his 
cliief  deity,  acting  on  behalf  of  the  neglected  Sin,  told 
him  in  a  vision  that  he  must  perform  this  pious  work.  He 
then  continues :  "  Reverently  I  say  to  the  lord  of  the  gods 
Merodach :  '  That  temple  which  thou  hast  commanded  me 
to  make,  the  Scythian  is  round  about  it,  and  his  forces  are 
mighty.'  But  Merodach  says  to  me :  '  The  Scythian  of 
whom  you  speak,  he,  his  lord,  and  the  kings  his  auxiliaries 
will  be  no  more.'  When  the  third  year  came  round,  they 
(the  gods)  set  Cyrus  his  petty  vassal  on  the  march.  With 
his  little  band  he  dispersed  the  wide-extended  Scythians. 
Astyages,  king  of  the  Scythians,  he  seized  and  carried 
away  prisoner  to  his  country."  ^  Nabonidus  then  goes  on 
to  say  that  when  Charran  had  thus  been  cleared  of  the  bar- 
barians he  proceeded  to  rebuild  the  temple. 

§  1384.  Our  first  remark  concerns  the  word  locsely  trans- 
lated "  Scythian."  As  a  collective,  it  means  literally  "  wide- 
spieading  hordes,"  and  is  a  general  term  for  the  nomads, 
such  as  Kimmerians  and  Mannicans  (§  758,  773  ff.),  and 
Scythians  (§  810  ff.),  who  since  the  days  of  Esarhaddon 
had  invaded  from  time  to  time  the  uplands  of  Western 
Asia,  and  here  and  there  had  broken  into  the  lowlands.^ 
It  is  passing  strange  tliat  Astyages  the  Mede  should  be 


"1  ; 


J  V  R.  64.  col.  I,  18-;53. 

2  See  Delitzsch,  IIWB.,  on  the  word  in  question,  Ummdn-mamla  (which 
apparently  means  "  a  large  horde  ").  and  Hagen  in  BA.  II,  231.  I  trans- 
late "Scythian ''  so  as  to  give  the  nearest  name  of  a  distinct  people. 


*»^m 


D 


Book  XI 


as  follows : 
ihed  against 
.  Astyages 
gave  [him} 
(Ecbatana). 
le  carried  as 

fabonidus,  in 

gives  impor- 

the  de(;i',yed 

[erodach,  his 

sd   Sin,  told 

IS  work.    He 

1  of  the  gods 

nmanded  me 

lis  forces  are 

Scythian  of 

is  auxiliaries 

1  round,  they 

larch.    With 

d  Scythians. 

and   carried 

then  goes  on 

of  the  bar- 

oc'sely  trans- 
a.ly  "  wide- 
,he  nomads, 
r73  ff.),  and 
Esarhaddon 
of  Western 
lowlands.^ 
e  should  be 


-manda  (which 
,  231.  I  trans- 
ict  people. 


.**V7  —  ••"vV *!•#*»» I*  f  w-w-  1 


1 


Ch.  IV,  §  1385     MEDIAN  SUBMISSION   EXPLAINED 


403 


called  by  this  foreign  name.  The  explanation  must  be 
either  that  he  was  a  "  Scythian "  who  superseded  the 
Median  Cyaxares,^  or  that  so  many  of  these  roving  people 
had  settled  in  Media,  that  they  had  given  character  and 
name  to  the  people  and  country.  1  think  that  until  fuller 
light  is  given  we  should  decide  for  the  former  alternative. 
That  the  nomads  under  a  strong  leader  were  able  to  ex- 
trude the  Medes  from  the  ruling  place  is  quite  credible.  So 
great  was  their  influence  that  through  them  the  Median 
policy  (§  1051)  was  changed,  and  before  552  they  occu- 
pied Mesopotamia.  The  association  of  Charran  with  the 
successes  of  Cyrus  gives  colour  to  this  hypothesis.  Evi- 
dently Nabonidus  was  given  a  free  hand  in  Mesopotamia 
after  the  northern  hordes  had  retired.  But  why  did 
they  retire  unless  the  victory  over  Astyages  was  a  blow 
at  the  "  Scythian "  leadership  ?  For  the  submission  of 
Astyages,  as  we  shall  see,  was  not  followed  by  a  contrac- 
tion of  the  Median  dominion.  The  solution,  therefore, 
seems  to  be  that  these  turbulent  foreigners  were  too 
strong  for  the  legitimate  government,  and  that  the  con- 
quest of  the  Medes  by  Cyrus  involved  in  the  fii-st  instance 
the  repression  and  perhaps  a  partial  expulsion  of  the 
northerners.  If  this  is  so,  the  motive  of  Cyrus  in  oppos- 
ing Astyages  was  not  merely  to  overthrow  the  Median 
suzerainty,  but  to  intervene  in  behalf  of  his  Iranian  kindred 
against  these  outlanders.  It  is  further  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose tliat  a  native  Median  party  was  discontented  with 
the  foreign  rdgime  ^  and  that  ^his  gave  encouragement  to 
Cyrus  to  throw  off  the  Median  yoke. 

§  1385.  How  finely  this  conclusion  harmonizes  with  the 
surprising  fact  reported  by  Herodotus  ^  and  signally  con- 

>  So  Winckler,  UAG.  p.  124  ff. 

2  Possibly  a  vague  reminiscence  of  this  state  of  things  glimmers  through 
the  account  given  by  Herodotus  (I,  107-124)  of  the  hostility  of  Harpagiw, 
the  trusted  minister  of  Astyages,  towards  his  master,  which  finally  led 
him  to  invite  Cyrus  to  dethrone  that  monarch. 

«  I,  127  ;  of.  125. 


n 


I 


rii 


;■■:,■ 

1  •■■■  ■'•  .'^i 

'       if 


ei'  i 

lui 


li 


8-' 


I  .in 


mrf 


■\A 


-,  X 


404 


A  MEDO-PERSIAN   EMPIRE 


Book  X^ 


firmed  by  the  conterapoiaiy  scribes  of  Babylon,  that  when 
the  Medes  and  the  Persian  revolters  met,  many  of  tlie 
former  went  over  to  the  banner  of  Cyrus!  Only  dis- 
content with  the  home  government  cim  account  for  an 
immense  army  making  terms  with  i  small  one.  And  only 
the  knowledge  of  such  a  feeling  can  account  for  the  revolt 
by  a  petty  underling  with  a  handful  of  followers  against 
the  most  powerful  empire  of  the  world.  Cyrus,  therefore, 
did  not  begin  his  matchless  career  either  as  a  foolhardy 
adventurer  or  as  a  wanton  aggressor.  The  story  goes  that 
Astyages  was  spared  and  well  treated  after  his  overthrow. 

§  1386.  Henceforth  the  world-empire  was  Medo-Persian. 
Its  moral  force  was  mainly  Persian,  but  its  population  was 
overwhelmingly  Median  or  of  former  Median  allegiance. 
Yet  for  purposes  of  administration  it  was  soon  made  an 
absolute  unit.  Of  the  "  Scythians  "  as  a  separate  force  we 
hear  nothing  thereafter.  The  adjutants  of  Cyrus  were 
drawn  from  all  portions  of  the  empire.  Mazares,  Har- 
pagus,  and  (jobryas,  his  chief  generals,  were  Medes. 
Myrceades,  who  took  the  lead  in  mounting  the  citadel  of 
Sardis  (§  1388),  was  an  Elamite.  The  speedy  completion 
of  the  organization  is  to  be  explained  by  assuming  that 
Cyrus  visited  the  provinces  in  person,  conciliating  the 
local  chiefs  by  his  affability,  and  choosing  with  unerring 
instinct  the  most  capable  men  as  his  governors.  Thus  first 
in  the  world's  histoiy  was  exemplified  on  a  large  scale  the 
principle  of  delegated  power  (cf.  §  56).  He  seems  also 
to  have  established  an  efficient  intelligence  department. 

§  1387.  During  the  two  j-ears  thus  occupied  the  career 
of  the  young  conqueror  and  statesman  was  being  anxiously 
watched  by  three  nations  —  Babylonia,  Egypt,  and  Lydia. 
Aggressive  action  was  fii-st  taken  by  Lydia.  A  memorable 
campaign  was  undertaken  by  Crresus.  He  had  expectation 
of  lielp  from  Egypt,  and  a  definite  promise  from  S[)arta  in 
Greece.  Seeking  an  omen  from  tlie  oracle  at  Del[)hi,  he 
received  the  fauious  answer,  "  By  crossing  the  Halys  thou 
wilt  destroy  a  great  empire."     Thus  encouraged,  he  ad- 


ff 


f 


Ch.  IV,  §  1388 


WAR  MADE   BY  LYDIA 


405 


vanced  against  the  Medo-Persians  in  the  spring  of  547 
■without  waiting  for  his  allies.  Cyrus,  wlien  informed  of 
the  movement  of  Croesus,  gathered  his  army,  crossed  the 
Tigris  below  Arbela,^  and  took  the  Mesopotamian  route 
to  Cappadocia  by  forced  marches.  Before  he  came  up 
with  the  troops  of  Croesus  they  had  occupied  the  strong 
fortress  of  Pteria,'^  in  the  north  of  Cappadocia,  and  laid 
waste  the  surrounding  countiy.  In  that  neighbouihood  a 
desperate  but  indecisive  battle  was  fought.  Cnnsus,  find- 
ing the  army  of  Cyrus  unexpectedly  strong,  retired  to  Sar- 
dis,  his  capital,  to  wait  for  his  allies,  thinking  that  Cyrus 
would  not  follow  him,  in  view  of  the  dilficult  terrain. 

§  1388.     In  this  Croesus  was  deceived.     In  less  than  two 
months  after  he  had  crossed  the  'rigris,^  Cyrus  marclied 


3 ']  \. 
V!  H 

3'! 

\    -i 
■(     :  I 


II*!  ■ 


! 

■i'  t 


*  9: 


te  iorce  we 


1  Some  detiiils  of  the  moveinpiits  of  Cyrus  possil)ly  form  piut,  of  tlio 
record  for  the  "lunth  year"  in  Nab.  AniKtls  (II,  15-18).  I  give  a  traiis- 
huioii  of  the  soiuewluit  mutilated  passage.  "(15)  In  tlie  month  Nisaii, 
Cyrus,  king  of  Persia,  mustered  his  troops  (10)  and  made  a  forced  jiaa- 
sage  over  tlie  river  Tigris  below  Arbela.  In  tlie  nuinth  lyyar,  to  the  land 
.  .  .  (he  went).  (17)  Its  king  he  vanciuished  and  seized  his  ])osst'ssions. 
lie  made  his  garrisons  occupy  it,  and  (18)  thenceforth  his  garrisons  and 
a  (?)  were  kept  there."  As  to  the  translation  of  the  disputed  word  i-rah 
(1.  !()),  of.  Delitzsch,  IIWB.  at  3ni  II,  and  observe  that  the  rapid  Tigris 
was  at  this  .season  fast  rising.  Various  conjectures  have  been  made  a.** 
to  line  10.  Winckler  (UAG.  p.  l.'Jl)  says  that  .some  little  kingdcpin  be- 
tween the  Tigris  and  Euphrates  is  meant,  llageii  (HA.  II,  24(t)  says 
that  "  the  country  in  cpiestion  lay  not  far  from  the  Tigris  below  Arbila." 
Conjecturing  from  traces  in  the  text  as  pultlished  by  IIagen\,hat  the  end 
of  the  line  might  have  been  mat  Lu-ud-di,  I  inquired  of  Mr.  IMnclies  his 
latest  opini(m.  The  eminent  decipherer  replied  that  after  an  examination 
in  February,  1808,  he  then  thouglit  that  the  pa,ssage  nnght  easily  read 
miit  Lu  and  a  part  of  ud,  the  rest  of  the  line  being  worn  off.  That  "the 
land  of  Lydia"  is  meant  is  therefore  possible.  On  other  grounds  it 
had  already  been  concluded  that  Cyrus  just  at  this  time  was  engaged 
with  Creesus  (Meyer,  GA.  I,  §  502  f.).  Moreover,  Nabonidus  reported 
only  the  most  important  actions  of  Cyrus  before  his  attack  on  Rabylonia. 
lie  had  already  noted  the  conquest  of  Media  (§  1.18:J_),  and  he  would  natu- 
rally mention  the  fall  of  Lydia. 

^  Near  I'teria  is  the  modern  town  of  Bogliaz-keui,  where  are  the  remain.s 
of  a  great  fortre.ss,  with  Ilettite  sculptures  on  the  walls  of  rock. 

3  Assuming,  meanwhile,  that  Nab.  Annals,  II,  lU  (see  note  above),  is  to 
be  referred  hither. 


>  I 


'  ll 


^I'fi!,   . 

"'1 

m 

T'         \: 

v.' 
■.-I 

i! 

k 

'       ."     ■     " '  1 

Si 
1 

1  ■  il 

'  - .       'if 

i 

'X"' 

;-'^^ili 

i:ii^ 


ii:  ■ 

V  ■< 

\  1    ■ 

.''''■ 

TmI. 


Lk; 


i^lit 


406 


SUB.JECTION   OF  LYDIANS  AND  GREEKS      Boob  XI 


direct  upon  Sardis,  and  before  the  autumn  was  over,  the 
capital  and  the  kingdom  were  in  his  hands.  The  Lydian 
troops  having  been  defeated  before  the  city,  it  was  invested 
by  Cyrus,  and  in  fourteen  days  it  was  taken  by  a  stratagem 
similar  to  that  employed  in  the  capture  of  Quebec.  A 
story  is  told  ^  to  the  effect  that  Cyrus  had  prepared  to  burn 
Croesus  alive,  that  the  pyre  was  raised,  the  fire  kindled,  and 
then  extinguished  by  a  miraculous  shower.  The  cruelt}- 
of  the  tale  has  gained  credence  in  recent  times  from  no 
less  an  authority  than  Noldeke.^  But  Cyrus  was,  at  all 
events,  neither  superstitious  nor  whimsical,  and  the  credible 
tradition  '  that  Croesus  was  spared  and  honoured  by  bim 
during  the  rest  of  his  life  is  inconsistent  with  the  underly- 
ing motive  of  the  story. 

§  1389.  Sardis  became  the  permanent  centre  of  Persian 
power  in  tlie  West.  But  of  greater  ultimate  consequence 
was  the  annexation  of  the  Greek  cities  and  colonies  de- 
pendent upon  Lydia,  for  thereby  came  about  the  Gi-seco- 
Persian  wars  that  shook  the  world.  Cyrus  himself  did 
not  remain  longer  than  was  necessary  to  direct  the  plans 
for  organizing  the  new  realm.  The  Median  Harpagus 
made  the  Greek  settlements  secure.  To  him  the  lonians, 
the  Carians,  and  finally  the  Lycians,  submitted.  The  king 
of  Cilicia  became  voluntarily  a  Persian  vassal,  and  the 
same   thing  is   related   of    the   princes   of   Paphlagonia.* 

1  By  Herodotus  (I,  87),  whose  narrative,  as  that  of  a  resident  of  the 
coastland,  may  be  relied  upon  for  the  leading  historical  events,  but  not 
for  stories  in  which  religious  credulity  may  be  suspected. 

a  Art.  "  Persia  "  in  the  Encyl.  Br.  (Vol.  XVIII,  p.  566)  by  Niildeke  and 
Gutschmid,  who  can  find  no  better  term  to  describe  Cyrus  than  "a  sav- 
age conqueror."  Much  more  just  is  the  eulogium  of  the  greatest  of  <  ►ri- 
ental  historians  (Meyer,  GA.  I,  §  506).  Cf.  the  judgment  of  Duncker, 
History  of  Antiquity  (tr.  by  Abbot),  VI,  128  S.  The  attempted  crema- 
tion, Duncker  (VI,  42  f.),  followed  by  Meyer  (GA.  I,  §  503),  interprets  as 
self-immolation  on  the  part  of  Cra>8us. 

■  In  which  Herodotus  from  Lydian,  and  Ctesias  from  Persian,  sources 
agree.  The  latter  says  that  Cyrus  allotted  to  Crossus  a  manor  near  the 
Median  capital  Ecbatana. 

*  Cf.  the  summary  in  Meyer,  GA.  I,  §  603. 


mmmmm 


:KS      Book  XI 

ras  over,  the 

The  Lydian 

ivas  invested 

a  stratagem 

Quebec.     A 

ared  to  bum 

kindled,  and 

The  cruelty 

les  from  no 

was,  at  all 

the  credible 

ired  by  him 

;he  underlj- 

e  of  Persian 
consequence 
colonies  de- 
the  Gi-seco- 
himself  did 
it  the  plans 
I  Harpagus 
:he  lonians, 
.  The  king 
il,  and  the 
iphlagonia.* 

esident  of  the 
vents,  but  not 

•y  Noldeke  and 
I  than  "a  sav- 
reatest  of « »ri- 
t  of  Duncker, 
;mpted  crema- 
I,  interprets  as 

jrsian,  sources 
lanor  near  the 


Cii.  IV,  §  1389         EAST  IRAN  MADE  PERSIAN  407 

Cyrus  meanwhile  returned  to  the  East,  and  soon  all  of  east 
Iran  (§  1374)  was  attached  to  his  rule.  With  the  sub- 
jection of  Baktria  he  became  the  recognized  head  of  the 
Iianian  peoples.  Among  them  little  coercion  was  needed. 
Yet  their  organization  and  protection  from  border  tiibes 
of  the  north  required  time,  patience,  and  skill.  To  these 
eastern  provinces,  the  proper  home  of  his  own  race,  Cyrus 
devoted  some  of  the  best  years  of  his  life  ;  though  his 
deeds  which  moved  the  civilized  world  were  performed 
in  other  regions. 


!  "  1 


•li 


lis.  •, 


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i 


I 


^ 


m^ 


I- ■■■':■ 


1    I 


^1 1 


\Ml 


mp  $. 


CHAPTER  V 


CYRUS   KING   OF  BABYLON 


N 


§  1390.  The  empire  of  Cyrus  now  extended  from  the 
river  Indus  to  the  A\.geai\  Sea,  the  whole  of  the  settled 
part  of  it  having  fallen  to  him  in  three  yeai-s  (550-547). 
Still  more  marvellous  than  the  rapidity  of  acquisition  was 
the  manner  of  it.  By  the  happiest  fortune  he  had  been 
spared  the  need  of  fighting  many  battles,  and  had  never 
appeared  in  them  as  an  oppressor.  Even  the  subjection 
of  the  Greek  cities  was  a  part  of  the  reduction  of  Lydia. 
That  he  burned  no  captured  cities  and  villages  and  that 
he  sought  to  protect  their  inhabitants  instead  of  making 
slaves  of  them,^  was  also  something  new  and  welcome. 
It  seems  to  have  been  appreciated  by  the  subject  peoples, 
for  we  do  not  hear  of  insurrections  during  his  lifetime. 
Thus  he  played  the  role  of  a  deliverer,  such  as  that  as- 
signed to  him  in  the  Hebrew  prophecy  of  his  time. 

§  1391.  It  is  not  quite  certain  how  the  war  with  Baby- 
lon was  directly  occasioned.  According  to  the  most 
probable  data  it  was  not  undertaken  till  eight  years  after 
the  conquest  of  Lydia.  By  all  precedent,  it  ought  to 
have  begun  immediately,  since  Babylon  had  been  in  al- 
liance with  Croesus,  and  the  seizure  of  the  whole  empire 
of  Nabonidus,  except  a  few  fortified  cities,  could  have 
been  possible  at  any  time.     It  is  clear  that  the  generals 

1  We  have  no  authentic  details  except  with  regard  to  Babylon.  We 
have,  however,  results.  Besides,  what  he  did  in  Babylon  (§  1895)  he  nat- 
urally did  elsewhere. 

408 


HLh;: 


from  the 
e  settled 
>50-547). 
ition  was 
bad  been 
ad  never 
ubjection 
pf  Lydia. 
and  that 

making 
velcome. 

peoples, 

ifetime. 

that  as- 

li  Baby- 
le  most 
ii's  after 
ught  to 
n  in  al- 
enipire 
"Id  have 
generals 

lion.     We 
p)  he  nat- 


Ti 


Cii.  V,  §  1302 


POLICY   OF  NABONIDUS 


409 


of  Cyrus  were  held  back,  during  these  years,  from  descend- 
ing upon  the  fertile  and  wealthy  provinces  that  had  been 
the  spoil  of  invaders  from  time  immemorial. 

§  1392.  Of  the  internal  condition  of  Babylonia  during 
the  closing  years  of  the  roign  of  Nabonidus,  we  gain  some 
hints  from  the  king's  own  records.^  In  his  ninth  year  (547) 
the  death  of  his  mother  is  recorded.  Belshazzar,  in  com- 
mand of  the  army,  and  his  men  bewailed  her  thiee  days, 
and  an  official  mourning  was  also  proclaimed  in  Akkad,  or 
the  district  of  north  Babylonia.  In  the  same  year,  as  also 
in  the  seventh,  tenth,  and  eleventh,  the  entry  is  made : 
"King  Nabonidus  was  in  Tema;  the  king's  son,  the  mag- 
nates, and  the  army  were  in  Akkad.  The  king  did  not 
come  to  Babylon  for  Nisan.  Nebo  did  not  go  to  Babylon, 
the  New  Year's  feast  was  not  held."  The  signilicance  of 
these  statements  is  obvious  (cf.  §  1371  f.).  The  king  did 
not  show  any  interest  either  in  the  affairs  of  the  capital 
or  in  the  defence  of  the  country.  Of  that  religion  which 
was  the  stj'ength  and  pride  of  Babylon,  the  New  Year's 
feast  was  the  crown.  On  this  day  Nebo  was  brought  from 
his  temple  in  Borsippa  to  Babylon,  and  there  led  along  the 
streets  by  a  prescribed  route,  in  solemn  procession.  That 
Nabonidus  should  habitually  ignore  this  ceremony,  and 
thereby  occasion  its  discontinuance,  was  a  direct  affront  to 
the  state  religion,  and  an  act  of  folly  on  his  part  which 
foreboded  destruction.^  The  popularity  which  he  had  at 
first  gained  in  the  provincial  cities  (§  1372)  at  length 
changed  to  indifference ;  while  in  the  caj)ital  a  feeling  of 
resentment  was  aroused  which  was  the  forerunner  of  re- 
bellion. There  is  abundant  evidence  that  the  priesthood 
of  Babylon  were  more  loyal  to  their  profession  and  their 

1  Nab.  Annals,  col.  II  and  III.  The  entries  for  only  a  few  years  have 
been  well  preserved.  For  the  eighth  year  ('>48)  no  record  was  made. 
The  eventful  seventeenth  (5:J0)  is  recorded  with  great  minuteness,  the 
work  having  been  completed  after  the  king's  deposition. 

*  The  records  themselves,  primarily  minuted  by  officials  of  Nabonidus,, 
indicate  the  discontent.     For  the  grand  ceremony  see  IIBA.  p.  078  f. 


H 


1 


I;    ,  '  ■ 


m  i' 


w  ■ 


i^; 


'  i  1' 


r       :i 


■■:/''■  I 


f\\ 


410 


NABONIDUS  TO   BE   SUPPLANTED 


Book  XI 


ii  I-      V 


craft  than  to  .any  existing  government  (cf.  §  660).  It 
would  have  been  easy  to  get  the  king  out  of  the  way,  and 
Belshazzar  was  a  man  of  character  who  would  make  a 
strong  ruler  in  his  pLace.  Deeper  designs,  however,  were 
cherished  by  these  leaders  in  Babylon  and  Borsippa.  The 
existing  regime  must  be  subverted,  and  who  so  worthy  a 
successor  as  the  tolerant  and  genial  Cyrus?  Of  such  a 
feeling  Cyrus  was  perhaps  made  aware. 

§  1393.  On  this  subject  we  may  hear  the  scribes  of  Cyrus 
himself.  In  an  inscription  written ^  after  his  occupation 
of  Babylon,  they  say  of  Nabonidus  that  he  neglected  the 
sacrifices  of  the  gods,  did  despite  to  Merodach  himself, 
and  oppressed  his  subjects,  so  that  the  gods  abandoned 
their  seats  in  anger.  They  then  continue :  "  Merodach 
took  compassion  on  the  people  of  Shumer  and  Akkad, 
who  had  become  like  unto  dead  men.  In  all  the  nations 
he  looked  over  his  friends,  seeking  a  righteous  prince 
after  his  own  heart,  to  take  by  his  hand.  'Cyrus,  king 
of  Anshan,'  he  called  his  name,  nominating  him  to  uni- 
versal sovereignty.  The  land  of  Gutium,  the  whole  of  the 
wide-spreading  hordes,  he  subdued  to  his  feet.  The  people 
of  mankind,  whom  he  gave  into  his  hands,  he  cared  for 
in  justice  and  equity.  Merodach,  the  great  lord,  the 
protector  of  his  people,  beheld  with  joy  his  generous 
deeds  and  his  righteous  heart,  and  bade  him   take   the 

1  Upon  a  cylinder  now  in  the  British  Museum  which  was  published 
in  1880,  in  J  HAS.,  by  Sir  Henry  Rawlinson,  and  by  Pinches  in  V  U.  .35. 
It  has  also  been  given  in  Abel  and  Winckler's  Keilschrifttexte  (1890), 
and  finally  in  the  most  exact  form  by  Hagen  in  BA.  II  (1894)  as 
an  appendix  to  his  treatise,  "  Cyrus-Texte. "  Translations  and  tran- 
scriptions are  given  by  Hagen  and  also  in  KB.  Ill,  ii  (1890),  p.  120-127 
by  Schrader.  Cf.  Delitzsch  in  BA.  II,  248  ff.  and  the  art.  "  Cyrus"  by 
King  in  EB.,  §  69.  I  cite  it  for  convenience  as  V 11.  35.  A  brief  inscription 
found  in  1850  by  Loftus  at  Warka  (Erech)  is  published  by  Hagen,  BA. 
II,  257.  It  runs:  "Cyrus,  rebuilder  of  Esagila  and  Ezida,  son  of  Cam- 
byses,  the  mighty  king,  I  am."  /ery  many  contract  tablets  have  been 
found  of  the  reign  of  Cyrus.  Those  in  the  British  Museum  are  published 
by  Strassmaier,  Inschriften  von  Cyrus  (1890).  For  others  see  Peiser, 
Keilschriftliche  Aktensl'iickc  (1889)  and  Babyl.  Vurtrdge  (1890). 


f-h' 


TW 


I 


Book  XI 

I 

660).  It 
i  way,  and 
d  make  a 
ever,  were 
ppa.  The 
)  wortliy  a 
Of  such  a 

s  of  Cyrus 

Dccupation 

:lected  the 

h  himself, 

ibandoned 

Merodach 

id  Akkad, 

he  nations 

•us   prince 

y^rus,  king 

m  to  uni- 

ole  of  the 

'he  people 

cared  for 

lord,  the 

generous 

take    the 

s  published 

in  V  R.  35. 

■ne  (1890), 
(1894)  as 
and  tran- 

p.  120-127 

Cyrus"  by 
inscription 

lagen,  BA. 

m  of  Cam- 
have  been 

!  published 
ee  Peiser, 

i)- 


Cii.  V,  §  1395      FALL   OF  BABYLON  RECOUDEl)  411 

road  to  Habylon,  going  by  his  side  as  a  friend  and  com- 
panion."^ 

§  1394.  Turning  now  to  the  annals  of  Nabonidus,  we 
see  that  in  539,  tlie  year  of  the  march  of  Cyrus  upon  Haby- 
lon, a  great  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  the  rol  faine- 
ant. Nebo  came  from  Borsippa  to  Babylon  (§  1392).  Bel 
went  out  to  join  him  in  procession.  The  New  Year's  feast 
was  celebrated  "as  was  proper."  But  this  was  not  enough. 
Whereas  formerly  Merodach  .and  Nebo  had  been  slighted, 
and  the  provincial  deities  honoured  with  rebuilt  and  re- 
dedicated  shrines,  now  the  images  of  those  favoured  gods 
were  dragged  from  their  seats  to  Babylon,  and  implored 
to  protect  the  threatened  capital. 

§  1395.  But  the  presence  of  all  the  gods  and  their  pro- 
pitiation were  a  vain  reliance  (cf.  Isa.  xlvi.  1  ff.).  Hear 
the  next  statement  of  the  chronicle :  ^  "  In  the  month 
Tammuz  (July),  when  Cyrus  gave  battle  to  the  troops  of 
Akkad  in  Opis  by  the  stream  Zalzallat,^  he  overcame  the 
men  of  Akkad.  Wherever  they  gathered  he  vanquished 
them.  On  the  14th  day  Sippar  was  taken  without  a  battle. 
Nabonidus  took  to  flight.  On  the  16th  day  Gobryas 
(  Ugharu).,  the  prefect  of  Gutium,  and  the  troops  of  Cy- 
rus, without  a  battle,  entered  Babylon.  Nabonidus,  while 
looking  behind  him,*  was  taken  prisoner.  Till  the  end  of 
the  month  the  shields  of  Gutium  surrounded  the  gates  of 
Esagila ;  no  one's  weapon  came  into  Esagila  or  into  the 
sanctuaries ;  nor  was  any  ensign  advanced.  In  Marchesvan, 
on  the  third  day,  Cyrus  entered  Babylon."  A  few  words 
from  Cyrus  himself  describe  the  conclusion  of  the  cam- 

1  VR.  35,  7-15.    For  parallels  with  Isaiah  II  see  §  1411  and  note. 

2  Nab.  Annals,  1.  12-18. 

8  Ilagen  understands  w  ("and")  before  the  word  for  "stream,"  and 
thinks  of  two  localities  and  two  distinct  engagements  (BA.  II,  222  f., 
243  f.).  He  is  probably  in  error.  It  is  not  necessary  to  limit  Upe  to  the 
mere  city  of  Opis.  The  district  of  Opis  is  meant ;  notice  the  determina- 
tive ki  "  place,"  not  al  "  city."  A  single  locality  only  is  therefore  to  be 
Assumed.     Hagen  is  right  in  thinking  that  Zalzallat  is  a  canal. 

*  Compared  by  Ilagen  with  Gen.  xix.  17,  20. 


II' I 


i  \ 


il 


I.; 

It 


K!    I! 


f^i^i; 


i 


412 


THE  CAMPAIGN   IN  DETAIL 


Book  XI 


paign :  "  His  wide-spreading  host,  whose  numbers  like 
the  waters  of  a  river  were  not  known,  girt  with  their 
weapons,  march  by  his  side.  Without  conflict  or  battle 
he  (Merodach)  made  him  enter  Babylon,  his  city.  Baby- 
lon he  spared  from  harsh  treatment.  Nabonidus,  the  king, 
who  did  not  fear  him,  he  delivered  into  his  hand.  The 
people  of  Babylon,  all  of  them,  and  the  whole  of  Shumer 
and  Akkad,  magnates  and  magistrates,  bent  low  before 
him,  and  kissed  his  feet.  They  rejoiced  in  his  sovereignty ; 
their  faces  beamed  delight.  The  Lord,  who  through  his 
might  gives  life  to  the  defid,  wlio  si)ares  all  from  destruc- 
tion and  (?),  they  blessed  with  rejoicing ;  they  honoured  his 


name 


"1 


b!J-  'I 


§  1-596.  A  few  words  of  comment  will  make  the  whole 
situation  clear.  Tliis  campaign  of  Cyrus  is  one  of  the 
marvels  of  history.  As  was  its  wont,  his  army  marched 
suddenly,  swiftly,  and  in  perfect  discipline.  There  was 
thus  the  less  opposition,  the  less  fighting,  the  less  destruc- 
tion of  life,  and  the  greater  chance  of  an  early  peace  and 
conciliation.  Every  movement  was  carefully  planned 
beforehand.  The  force  was  mobilized  in  Gutium,  which 
had  become  thoroughly  Persian.  Thence  it  moved  south- 
westward  till  it  reached  the  Tigris  near  Opis,  or  the  north- 
east border  of  the  Babylonia  of  that  day.  There  the  troops 
of  Belshazzar,  mainly  drawn  from  Akkad  —  for  the  people 
of  Shumer  (§  110),  that  is,  the  country  around  the  capital, 
had  no  mind  to  resist — ventured  to  oppose  the  invaders  at  a 
point  where  a  canal  leaves  the  Tigris.  They  were  defeated 
and  scattered.  This  was  the  only  battle  of  the  campaign. 
Sippar,  about  forty-five  miles  southwestward,  was  entered 
without  opposition.  The  capital  was  over  fifty  miles  distant. 
In  two  days'^  it  also  surrendered  without  a  blow  being  struck. 
Belshazzar  was  probably  captured  at  the  battle  of  Opis. 
Nabonidus,  who  had  roused  himself  and  gone  northward 

1  V  R.  35.  16-19. 

"  An  instance  of  the  mobility  of  the  armies  of  Cyrus.    The  campaign, 
seems  to  have  lasted  less  than  a  week. 


Mil  ■ 
»*■  ■■  ■ 


\v 


Book  XI 

lers  like 
th  their 
)r  battle 
,  Baby- 
he  king, 
I  The 
Shumer 
i  before 
reignty ; 
)iigh  his 
destruc- 
>ured  his 

le  whole 

i  of  the 

marched 

lei'e  was 

destruc- 

ace  and 

planned 

1,  which 

south- 

e  north- 

|e  troops 

people 

capital, 

ers  at  a 

efeated 

ipaign. 

entered 

listfint. 

I  struck. 

Opis. 

thward 


impaign. 


Cii.  V,  §  1.107 


TIIK  NKW   1{1^:0IMK 


413 


to  be  with  or  near  the  army  of  defence,  fled  to  Babylon  at 
the  surrender  of  Sippar ;  but  while  hesitating  about  furtlicr 
flight  was  captured,  presumably  in  his  own  palace  grounds.* 
The  fortitications  of  Nebuchadrezzar  (§  1058),  which  could 
have  held  out  long  against  any  army  of  the  time,  were  as 
if  they  had  not  been.  The  mighty  gates  were  thrown 
open  and  a  welcome  given  to  the  army  of  Cyrus.  Tiie 
army  had  been  in  part,  at  least,  loyal  to  the  king;  but  after 
its  defeat,  a  popular  uprising  coulirmed  the  wiser  choice  of 
the  priesthood  (§  1392). 

§  1397.  It  is  not  certain  that  Cyrus  was  with  the  army 
at  any  time  during  the  actual  campaign.  But  his  ruling 
purpose  was  shown  at  its  close  as  well  as  through  its  course. 
At  once  his  policy  was  announced.  "  Peace  was  secured  for 
the  city.  Cyrus  proclaimed  peace  to  all  IJabylonia.''^  iiut 
he  himself  did  not  appear  in  Babylon  till  three  njontiis 
and  a  half  after  the  surrender.  Meanwhile  things  took 
their  course  in  the  city  as  before.  Neither  sacred  nor 
secular  business  was  interrupted.  The  general  (iobryas 
was  entrusted  with  the  appointment  of  royal  prefects. '^ 
How  much  further  the  civil  administration  was  clumged 
we  are  not  informed.  Babylonia,  however,  was  not 
treated  as  a  province.  Cyrus  was  really  an  enii)eror  with 
at  least  two  distinct  kingdoms,  and  he  ruled  Bal)ylonia 
immediately  as  its  king.  The  contract  tablets,  while 
indicating  this  principal  fact,  give  no  hint  of  the  rule  of 
petty  Persian  officials  during  his  reign.  There  was.  of 
necessity,  a  court.     Cyrus  himself  sometimes  resided  liere 

1  So  for  as  made  out  the  contemporary  docnincnts  throw  no  further 
light  upon  the  final  fote  of  Nabonidus  and  liis  son.  According'  to  Hcros- 
8U3,  Cyrus  gr.anted  a  handsome  residence  in  Carmania  to  Nabonidus  for  the 
rest  of  his  days.  A  slightly  mutilated  passage  in  Nab.  Axixiln  (1.  22  f.) 
appears  to  say  that  "the  son  of  the  kii'.g  died."  This,  liowever,  is  not 
quite  certain.  If  Belshazzar's  death  is  really  there  recorded,  it  took  place 
during  the  same  year.  Tlie  Belshazzar,  son  of  Nebuchadrezzar,  of  the 
book  of  Daniel,  is  doubtless  the  son  of  Nabonidus  of  the;  cuneiform  texts. 
But  the  story  of  ch.  v.  finds  no  confirmation  in  tlie  reconls  of  the  time. 

•■'  a&h.  Aiinalu,  ill,  1<J  I.  »  Hah.  AuuaU,  III,  20. 


'I 


ill  ill 


ii'  i 


rii  V 


jt|i 


1 

■iti 


414 


RELIGIOUS  AND   POLITICAL  SEQUKL  Book  XI 


and  sometimes  in  Ecbatana,  when  his  movements  per- 
mitted him  to  live  quietly  anywhere.'  Ho  made  Baby- 
lon at  once  a  permanent  seat  of  emjiire  by  having 
Cambyses,  his  son,  consecrated  as  his  heir  by  the  priests 
of  Merodach.^ 

§  18U8.  We  know  more  about  the  religious  than  the 
political  life  of  liabylon  after  the  surrender.  Cyrus 
ordained  not  merely  that  the  native  religion  should  be 
tolerated  and  respected,  but  that  it  should  be  encouraged 
by  his  officers.  It  was,  in  fact,  formally  made  the  state 
religion  of  the  kingdom,  lie  himself  ajjpears  as  a  wor- 
shipper, not  merely  of  Merodach,  but  of  the  gods  of  Baby- 
lonia generally.  He  was  indignant  at  the  sacrilege 
committed  by  Nabonidus  in  dragging  them  from  their 
seats  and  deporting  them  to  the  capital,  and  ordered  them 
to  be  restored  to  their  proper  shrines.^  The  propitiation 
of  the  gods  of  Babylonia  and  his  acknowledgment  of  their 
sovereignty  he  thus  made  his  prime  duty  and  privilege  as 
king  of  the  country  (cf.  §  1416). 

§  1?»99.  Finally,  we  note  his  treatment  of  foreign  slaves 
and  exiles,  of  whom  there  were  many  in  Babylonia.  His 
proclamation  giving  permission  to  the  Hebrews  to  return 
to  their  homes  and  their  God  we  learn  of  from  the  book  of 
Ezra  (ch.  i.).  It  is  pleasing  to  know  that  this  boon  was 
not  conferred  upon  them  alone.  He  himself  tells  us  of 
cities  as  far  as  tlie  border  of  Gutium  whose  gods  and  peo- 
ple alike  had  been  deported  to  Babylon.  Now  both  the 
one  and  the  other  were  restored :  "  The  gods  who  inhabit 
them  I  restored  to  their  seats,  and  made  for  them  a  dwell- 
ing-place there  forever.  All  of  their  people  I  gathered  m'^ 
restored  to  their  homes  "  *  (cf.  §  1415). 


■'X'i 


1  Trr^ditions  seem  to  agree  that  Cyrus  was  busily  occupi.        i  the  ea 
ern  provinces  towards  the  close  of  his  life.     But  eveu  the  pl.i.  o  and  niaa- 
ner  of  his  death  cannot  be  confidently  stated. 

2  Cf.  V  R.  35,  27.  35,  and  Nab.  Annals,  III,  24  £E. 
»  V  R.  35,  6.  32  f.    Cf.  Nab.  Annals,  III,  21  f. 

«  V  R.  G5,  31  f . 


}d  at   ^ 


le  t'ii 
d  111. Ill- 


CHAPTER   VI 


PROPHETIC    IDKALS 


§  1400.  In  a  very  real  sense  Israel  in  Babylonia  began 
anew  its  spiritual  life.  There  in  servitude  it  was  taught 
elementary  lessons  which  it  could  never  have  learned  in 
freedom.  Its  prison-house  was  from  tlie  very  bcgiiniing 
its  nursery,  and  was  soon  made  its  school.  There  its 
teachers,  too,  were  trained;  there  they  were  broadened, 
dee[)ened,  and  lifted  above  themselves,  their  people,  their 
times,  and  the  world  itself.  The  moral  iiilluences  of 
the  Exile  (§  1313  ff.)  had  been  acting  long  before  the 
imagination  of  even  the  seers  was  fully  awakened.  It 
was  the  death  of  Nebuchadrezzar  and  the  succeeding  com- 
motions which  stirred  the  smouldering  prophetic  fire ;  and 
then  it  flamed  forth  brighter  than  ever.  New  thoughts 
were  given  forth  in  the  noblest  forms  of  poetic  oratoiy : 
new  conceptions  of  Jehovah,  of  his  might  and  providence 
and  purpose,  of  the  destiny  of  Israel  and  the  world. 

§  1401.  The  reign  of  Nebuchadrezzar  had  been  so  long 
and  imperious  that  the  Hebrew  exiles  thought  of  deliver- 
ance as  an  event  in  the  indefinite  future.  But  when  he  died,, 
there  was,  after  the  manner  of  the  ancient  East,  unrest  and 
anxiety  everywhere.  Evidences  of  the  inherent  weakness 
of  Chaldjeism  soon  appeared  and  multii)lied.  The  ensuing 
conspiracies  and  revolutions  (§  13(39  f.)  could  not  but  con- 
firm distrust,  and  the  character  and  habits  of  Nabonidus 
(§  1371  f.)  added  thereto.  It  was  probably  early  in  his 
reign  that  Isa.  xiii.— xiv.  23  was  written  and  circulated 
privately  among  the  exiles.  It  has  for  its  theme  tlif 
lestruction  of  Babylon  by  the  Medes,  .and  was  apparently 
uggested  by  the  aggressive  spirit  manifested  by  that  people 

415 


416 


PROl'IIECY  OF   THK   MEDES 


Book  XI 


;k 


I'. 


I! 


t ' 


i 


.il'<!; 


m 


when  under  "  Scythian "  control  (§  1384).  We  know 
from  Nabonidus  that  the  northern  frontier  of  Babylonia 
was  harassed  by  subjects  of  Astyages  (§  1382  f.),  and  that 
it  was  not  till  Cja'us  intervened  that  relief  was  given.  The 
popular  dread  of  them  was  reflected  in  that  felt  by  Naboni- 
dus himself.  That  this  and  no  later  date  is  that  of  the  pro[)h- 
ecy  is  probable  (1)  because  the  Modes  ^  and  not  the  Persians 
are  referred  to  as  the  enemies  of  Babylon,  and  (2)  because 
the  mode  of  warfare  ascribed  to  the  aggressors  (xiii.  15  ff.) 
was  not  that  of  the  armies  of  Cyrus,  but  rather  that  which 
would  be  naturally  expected  from  Scythian  hordes;  (3)  be- 
cause the  invaders  are  said  (xiii.  5)  to  "come  from  a  far 
country,  from  the  remotest  horizon,"  an  expression  inap- 
plicable to  the  Medo-Persian  forces  (see  §  1390). 

§  1402.  The  predictive  portions  of  this  majestic  dis- 
course show  strong  assurance  of  the  ruin  and  desolation  of 
Babylon  (xiii.  10-22)  and  of  the  restoration  of  Israel  to 
its  own  land  (xiv.  1,  2,  22,  23).  But  more  significant  is 
the  characterization  of  the  Babylonian  world-power,  which 
is  given  with  such  lyrical  splendour  in  the  ode  inserted  in 
the  prophecy  proper.  It  was  not  merely  the  Chaldajan  regime 
of  the  time  that  was  in  the  mind  of  the  poet.  When,  in  the 
most  drami'^ic  passage  of  the  Old  Testament,  he  pictures 
the  oppressor  of  the  nations  quelled  at  last  by  death,  and 
his  former  vacsals  in  all  the  pacified  earth  rejoicing  in  their 
deliverance,  and  all  the  dead  tyrants  starting'"  up  with 
incredulous  surprise  as  the  king  of  kings  comes  to  join  his 
peers  in  Sheol,  he  is  thinking  of  the  liistoric  tyranny  of 
Assyria  and  Babylonia  meeting  its  long-delayed,  divinely 
predestined  doom :  "  How  is  the  o[)pressor  ceased,  the  rag- 
ing stilled !  Jehovah  hath  broken  the  rod  of  the  wicked, 
the  sceptre  of  the  rulers,  that  smote  the  peoples  in  fury 

1  No  contemporary  writer,  as  far  as  we  know,  refers  to  the  Tersians  as 
Mi'tlca.  In  Isa.  xxi.  2  the  Mcdes  are  mentioned,  but  as  forming  part  of 
the  forces  of  Cyrus  (see  §  14(14).  It  is  ineonceivahle  that  botli  the  tower- 
ing personality  of  Cyras  and  tlie  race  tt)  which  he  belonged  could  bo 
omitted  hi  a  prophecy  of  deliverauce  written  after  j47  u.c. 


Lit 


Ui. 


Cii.  VI,  §  1403 


FALL  OF   THE   TYRANT 


417 


the  towcr- 


with  unceasing  blows,  that  played  the  tyrant  over  tlie 
nations,  treading  them  down  without  restraint.  The 
whole  earth  is  now  at  rest  and  quiet;  it  Ineaks  forth  into 
singing.  .  .  .  Tiiy  pomp  is  brought  down  to  the  shades 
and  tiie  sounding  of  thy  viols.  .  .  .  How  art  thou  falhn 
from  heaven,  ()  Day-star,  son  of  the  morning  I  How  art 
tiiou  hewn  down  to  the  ground,  who  didst  lay  low  the 
nations!  And  thou  saidst  in  thy  lieart,  'I  will  ascend  into 
heaven;  I  will  exalt  my  throne  above  the  stars  of  (lod;  I 
will  sit  upon  the  mountain  of  Jissembly  in  the  recesses  of 
the  north. ^  I  will  ascend  above  the  heights  of  the  clouds ; 
I  shall  be  like  the  Most  Iligii.'  .  .  .  They  that  see  thee 
shall  look  narrowly  at  thee,  and  stare  at  thee:  'Is  tliis  the 
man  that  made  the  earth  to  *^remble,  that  did  shake  king- 
doms, that  made  the  world  a  desert  and  overthrew  the 
cities  thereof,  that  let  not  loose  his  prisoners  to  their 
homes?'"  (xiv.  4  ff.). 

§  1403.  Of  an  entirely  different  literary  type  is  a  long 
discourse  (Jer.  1.  1-li.  58),  indicating  clearly  the  same 
historical  situation.  A[)parently  on  account  of  some 
resemblance  in  style,  it  has  been  annexed  to  the  genuine 
prophecies  of  Jeremiah.  Here  again  the  Medes  are  named 
as  more  specifically  "the  kings  of  the  Medes"  (li.  11,  28; 
of.  1.  41),  a  phrase  which  points  to  the  semi-independent 
nomad  chiefs  of  the  later  Median  times.  More  definitely 
still  the  aggressors  are  said  to  be  coming  from  the  noith 
country,^  and  to  be  a  gathering  of  great  nations  (1.  9,  41  ), 
for  instance,  "  the  kingdoms  of  Ararat,  of  Van,  and  of  Ash- 
kenaz"'^  (li.  27),  such  as  belonged  to  the  half-organ i/.rd 


1  That  is,  in  the  north  ioIp  of  tiie  heavens,  tlie  seat  of  tlio  ehief  of  the 
gods,  Aim  (Jensen,  Knsmilogii',  p.  22  f. ).  Cf.  ICz.  i.  4,  also  wiittiii  in 
llabylonia,  but  not  I's.  xlviii.  :>. 

■■'  Contrast  Cyrus  an<l  the  Persians,  who  are  said  to  come  from  "tliu 
cast"'  (Isa.  xli.  2  ;  xlvi.  11). 

8  For  Van  (.Vniinni  KV,  "Minni")  see  §  7o8,  wliere  its  assoeiation 
■witii  the  Medes  is  pointed  out.  Asiilteiiaz  is  tlie  As/kjuz  of  11  U.  4'>,  col. 
H,  20  (Ksarliaddon).     See  Delitzsch  in  Baer's  text  of  Daniel,  p.  I.\,  and 

KAT.!*  p.  <no. 

2b 


'i'    I'l 


i- 


i 


i'  I. 


it  .!< 


if'H 


t,ii!. 


i-  "I 


m 


Iw, 


M 


fi  < 


i  !:■■  i 


m . ! 


418 


BABYLONIA,  MEDIA,  AND   ELAM 


Book  XI 


empire  of  Media  before  the  day  of  Cyrus.  The  general 
tone  of  the  prophecy  is  bitter  and  vengeful  like  Isa.  xiii., 
and  thus  diffei-s  from  the  impartial  temper  of  Isa. 
xl.-lv.,  and  the  more  genial  Persian  era.  Nebuchad- 
rezzar himself  (Jeremiah's  "servant  of  Jehovah")  is  here 
re[)resented  as  a  lion  that  crunched  the  bones  of  the 
hunted  sheep,  Israel,  after  another  lion,  Assyria,  had 
devoured  his  flesh  (1.  17).  Hence  vengeance  is  to  be 
taken  upon  "  the  king  of  Babylon "  (1.  18).  That  the 
author  wrote  in  Babylonia  is  shown  by  his  intimate  know- 
ledge of  the  country.^ 

§  1404.  Another  prophecy  (Isa.  xxi.  1-10)  intervenes 
between  the  Median  ^jeriod  and  the  fulness  of  the  time  of 
Cyrus.  Tlie  standpoint  of  the  author  clearly  appears  in 
V.  2 :  "  Go  up,  Ehim !  lay  siege,  Media  !  "  Here  "  Elam  '* 
is  used  by  synecdoche  for  Anshan  (§  UJTS),  before  the 
title  "  king  of  Pei'sia  "  had  been  assumed  by  Cyrus.'^  The 
discourse  is  intensely  dramatic.  The  prophet  sees  in  vision 
the  siege  of  Babylon  by  the  Persians  and  Medes  (vs.  1,  2). 
The  .approaching  catastrophe  stuns  him  with  its  magnitude 
(vs.  3,  4).  The  anxiety  as  to  the  result  is  pictured  in  the 
successive  reports  of  a  watchman,  who  finally  answers: 
"  Babylon  is  fallen,  is  fallen  "  (vs.  5-9).  The  issue  is  then 
declared  to  the  prophet's  interested  people.  One  cannot 
but  feel  that  as  the  fall  of  Babylon  approaches,  the  word 
of  prophecy,  in  whatever  form  it  may  be  uttered,  become* 
more  sober  and  dignified.' 


HuL 

fe-- 

L     ...1 

it--— t-. 

iiis>'< 

w 

BR^n'i'*^ 

1  Thus  he  not  only  refers  to  Pekod  (§  335),  but  to  the  "  salt  sea  land  "■ 
Mnrratim  (I.  21),  that  portion  of  Babylonia  washed  by  the  Persian  Gulf^ 
Par.  p.  182.  Remarkable  are  the  cases  of  the  so-called  Athbash,  in 
which  the  last  letter  of  the  alphabet  is  put  for  the  first,  the  second-last 
for  the  second,  and  so  on.  Thus  in  li.  1  'ap  a^  is  put  for  one's  "Chaldaea," 
and  in  li.  41  yz'Z'  is  put  for ''a 3  "Babylon"  as  in  xxv.  20.  The  use  of 
cryptic  writing  was  learned  from  the  practice  of  the  Babylonian  schools. 

a  That  is,  647  n.r.  ;  see  Nab.  Annals,  II,  16  (§  1387,  note). 

*  Isa.  xxxiv.  should  be  mentioned  here,  rtiough  its  subject  is  not  Baby- 
lonia, but  Edom.  It  is  very  rancorous  in  tone,  a  feature  which  is  no  good 
indication  of  the  time  of  composition,  since  the  enmity  betwe«'n  JudaU 


i  ill 


Book  XI 

,  I 

general 
sa.  xiii., 
of  Isa. 
ibucliad- 
)  is  here 
of  the 
ria,  had 
is  to  be 
rhat  the 
te  know- 

itervenes 
3  time  of 
ppears  in 

"  Elam  " 
efore  the 
[is.2  The 
}  in  vision 
l(vs.  1,  2). 

lagnitude 
led  in  the 

answers : 
|ue  is  then 

e  cannot 

Ithe  word 
becomes- 


Ch.  VI,  §  1405 


THE   SECOND   "ISAIAH" 


411^ 


It  sea  land  "" 
Irsian  Gulf^ 
Uhbash,  in 
I  second-last 
jChaldaBa," 
I  The  uBe  of 
\,n  schools. 

not  Baby- 
is  no  good 
ireoo  Judah 


§  1405.  The  destruction  of  Babylon  is  the  prevailing 
theme  in  the  compositions  which  have  just  been  considered. 
But  in  the  last  and  greatest  work  of  the  Exile  this  event 
is  less  prominent  and  is  overshadowed  by  its  conse(iuences 
with  the  new  perspective  of  divine  revelation  which  it 
opened  up.  The  author,  whose  writings  for  this  period 
include  at  least  Isa.  xl.-lv.,  composed  these  discourses 
shortly  before  539  U.c.  To  him  the  consummation  is 
close  at  hand.  It  is  so  near  and  sure  that  he  sees 
through  and  beyond  it.  It  is  to  him  no  longer  an  object, 
but  a  medium  of  vision.  Such  indeed  are  all  the  events  of 
his  fateful  time  that  touched  the  fortunes  of  his  people.  He 
is  thus  above  all  else  a  seer,  the  seer  of  a  new  and  larger 
Israel.  But  he  is  more  than  this,  he  is  the  crown  and  flower 
of  Hebrew  prophecy.  His  supremacy  was  due  in  part  to 
what  he  wjis  in  himself,  and  in  part  to  his  age  and  environ- 
ment. He  lived  in  the  time  of  the  greatest  [)rophetic 
opportunity.  He  had  the  wider  vision,  not  merely  because 
he  stood  on  the  shoulders  of  Isaiah  and  Jeremiah,  but  also 
because  he  had  seen  more  of  God's  world  than  they.  Intel- 
lectually he  is  a  product  of  two  kindred  but  divergent 
civilizp.tions.  A  pupil  of  the  school  that  cherished  the 
past  of  their  country  as  only  exiles  can,  he  throws  himself 
into  line  with  the  great  motives  of  Israel's  divinely 
ordained  career  (ch.  xliii.  3  if. ;  xlix.  5  ff.).  But  he  can 
also  follow  the  great  world-forces,  and  sees  as  no  native 
Palestinian  could,  how  these  apparently  diverging  ten- 
dencies meet  at  last  in  the  harmony  of  univei'sal  subjec- 
tion to  Jehovah's  reign.  To  use  an  astronomical  figure, 
his  visions  were  truer  because  their  parallax  was  less,  since 
they  were  made  from  the  centre  of  the  earth.  Thus  Baby- 
lonia prepared  him  to  become  the  herald  of  a  universal 

and  Ldom  was  ineradicable  and  perpetual.  Ps.  cxxxvii.  and  Ez.  xxxv. 
might  suggest  the  time  of  the  Exile  ;  but  the  composite  Obadiah  and  Mai. 
i.  2  ff.  warn  us  to  be  cautious  here.  Isti.  xxxv.  has  nothing  to  do  with 
xxxiv.  It  is  a  hymn  appended  to  the  works  of  Isaiah  ;  but  itH  tone  and 
resemblance  to  Isa.  xl.  £f.  suggest  the  end  of  the  Exile  as  its  date. 


i 


I 


I  ' 


h 


i'"'l 


420 


CULTURE   AND  STYLE   OF  THE   I'UOIMIET     Book  XI 


fiJ* 


providence.  But  this  was  not  all.  He  had  a  rare  educa- 
tion. His  easy  mastery  of  all  his  themes,  his  im[>erious 
command  of  the  forms  of  speech,  his  happy  geniality',  his 
tolerance  and  breadth  of  sympathy,  were  not  merely  the 
result  of  long  study  and  reflection,  but  of  wide  and  close 
observation  added  to  native  endowment.  He  was  esj»e- 
cially  familiar  with  Babylonian  life  and  customs  (ch.  xli.  7; 
xliii.  14;  xlvi.  1  ff;  xlvii.  2,  12  f.).  He  knew  the  contents 
of  historical  inscriptions  (§  1411).  But  most  of  all  is  his 
Babylonian  home  revealed  in  his  style  and  in  his  literary 
allusions.  His  discourse,  serene,  alHuent,  and  glowing,  is 
an  image  of  a  Babylonian  landscape.  As  it  unrolls  itself, 
we  think  of  fields  and  gardens  and  stately  jjalms  and  Ijend- 
ing  willows  and  gently  flowing  streams,  stretching  away 
over  an  ample  plain,  and  all  standing  out  clear  in  the  light 
of  a  cloudless  sky. 

§  1406.  What  impresses  one  most  in  the  writings  of 
Isaiah  H  is  the  consummate  beauty  and  power  of  his  niere 
language.  Words  with  him  seem  not  an  instrument  of  ex- 
pression, but  an  tactual  organ  of  thought  and  still  more  of 
feeling.  They  are  not  so  much  voices  that  charm  or  thrill 
us  as  hands  that  hold  us,  caress  us,  and  move  us  an  they 
will.  What  Macaulay  said  of  Milton,  that  his  poetry  acts 
like  an  incantation,  is  much  more  true  of  our  author;  for 
JNIilton  had  little  of  his  pathos,  his  feeling  of  the  lachripiKP 
rerum,  the  tearfulness  at  the  heart  of  things,  his  sense  of 
the  yearning  needs  of  all  sentient  beings,^  such  as  brings 
together  the  divine  Shepherd  and  his  tired  lambs  (xl.  11), 

1  Vory  marked  in  Isaiah  II  is  the  absence  of  liarshncss  and  raneonr.  He 
does  notalnise  the  idol-worshippers  (xliv.  9-20  ;  xlv.  20  ;  xlvi.  0  f. ).  One 
feels  that  he  is  sorry  f^r  their  stupidity.  He  is  contemptuous  of  the 
insensate  idols;  but  he  !  es  not  describe  them  as  thrown  down  (1  Sam. 
V.  JJ  f.)  or  hurled  from  their  seats.  They  "stoop"  and  "bow  down,"' and 
one  can  even  trace  the  pity  of  the  prophet  as  he  depicts  the  vain  efforts 
of  the  gods  once  carried  in  festal  procession  (§  l.']02)  to  save  themselves 
from  deportation  (xlvi.  If.).  On  the  other  hand,  how  he  enters  into  the  lot 
of  the  really  8ufferlnj» :  the  captive,  the  pri.soiier,  and  the  oppressed  (xliL 
7  ;  11.  l;J  f.),  the  faint  and  weary  (xl.  20  f.),  the  poor  and  needy  (xli.  17  ff.)l 


Book  XI 

e  educa- 
in[)eriou» 
ality,  his 
irelv  the 
,nd  close 
k'iis  es|»e- 
ih.  xli.  7; 
eontcMits 
all  is  his 
\  literary 
owing,  is 
ills  itself, 
viid  Ijeiid- 
iiig  away 
the  light 

ritings  of 

[  his  mere 

ent  of  ex- 

1  more  of 

1  or  thrill 

s  i\&  they 

etry  acts 

[thor;  for 

lachnfm<B 

sense  of 

s  brings 

(xi.  11): 

Incour.  He 
llJf.).  <»»e 
Imis  of  the 
ni  (1  Sam. 
llowii,"'  and 
iraiii  efforts 
jtln'mselves 
[into  the  lot 
li-ssed  (xliL 
Ixli.  i:  ff.)! 


Ch.  VI,  §  1407 


PARALLEL  WHII   VERGIL 


421 


and  even  makes  the  Creator  call  his  heavenly  host  by  name, 
that  they  may  not  straggle  from  their  ranks  (xl.  20).^ 
The  peer  of  Isaiah  II  is  not  Milton  but  Vergil;  and  these 
two  are  alone  in  their  combination  of  subtle,  all-perva- 
sive tenderness  and  sym[)athy,  sustained  and  not  over- 
strained fervour,  splendour  and  simplicity  of  diction,  the 
enchantment  of  [)erfect  s[)eech  set  to  the  music  of  the 
universal  human  heart.  They  stand,  tiierefore,  together 
among  the  chief  of  poets,  though  neitlier  was  a  great 
creative  genius,  nor  the  tirst  in  pt)wer  of  thought  in  the 
literature  of  his  own  nation.  Nor  does  the  paiallcl  end 
here;  for  Vergil,  too,  was  a  prophet  of  the  fulness  of  the 
times.  As  Isaiah  II  gathered  in  himself  the  best  hopes  and 
promises  of  the  earlier  proph  ;ts,  so  Vergil  was  swayed  hy 
the  purest  moral  ideas  and  aspirations  of  (Jreek  thinkers 
and  sages.  Lastly  and  most  remarkably,  eacli  of  them  stood 
at  the  close  of  a  \o\\<^  period  of  international  strife  and 
bitterness,  and  expected  the  speedy  coming  of  an  age  of 
peace  and  blessedness.  How  different  the  two  conceptions 
were!  And  yet  the  coincidence  is  more  significant  than 
the  difference.  Of  each  of  them  it  may  be  said,  as  Victor 
Hugo  wrote  of  Vergil :  ^  — 

"  II  est  nil  des  C(»>iirs  que  dejfi,  sous  les  cieux, 
Dorait  le  jour  iiaissant  du  Christ  inysterieux." 

§  1407.  Such  writing  as  that  of  Isa.  xl.-lxvi.  is  not  spon- 
taneous. The  eloquence  that  moves  one's  contemporaries 
may  be  improvised,  but  that  which  sways  the  world  forever 
is  the  long  travail  of  mind  and  soul.  These  gems  of 
thought  and  feeling  with  their  in(;essant  play  of  many- 
coloured  lights  were  polished  to  perfection.  Moreover,  if 
we  confine  our  attention  to  those  chapters  which  primarily 
belong  to  the  end  of  the  Exile,  we  must  see  that  their  [)er- 
manent  form  was  not  given  at  once,  so  that,  as  was  said 

>  Cf.  the  imitation  in  Ps.  cxlvii.  4,  and  note  the  parallellHm  with  vs. 
2  and  3. 

'■»  Lea  voix  intMeurea,  XVIII  (1837). 


i\! 


n^. 


I         .! 


i  ■  11 


i 


•'.  !'■ 


Ill- 


i 

•i 

•1 

422 


THE  PROBLEM  FOR  THE  PROPHET 


Book  XI , 


already  (§  13U3),  their  literary  history  extends  beyond  the 
period  under  present  review.^  But  the  most  important  fact 
is  that,  as  we  have  them  now,  tliey  are  not  wholly  the 
production  of  the  individual  prophet  whose  genius  moulded 
and  elaborated  them.  Tlie  thoughts,  so  comprehensive, 
far-reaching,  and  final,  are  the  ripe  conclusions  of  a  school 
led  by  the  unnamed  author.  In  the  finished  product  the 
earlier  writings  of  the  period  (§  1401  ff.)  found  their  cor- 
rection and  complet'on. 

§  1408.  Hence  the  great  political  catastrophe  was 
scarcely  a  problem  to  our  author.  Nor  was  it  now  hard 
to  convince  his  hearers  or  readeis  that  the  day  of  Babylon 
was  near  to  come.  Cyrus  and  his  omnipotence  were  in  the 
mouths  of  all  men.  To  an  Israelite  the  overthrow  of  the 
oppressor  was  not  the  goal  of  desire ;  it  was  instrumental 
and  secondary.  The  more  diftlcult  question  was  whether 
such  an  event  would  help  or  save  the  Hebrew  exiles.  To 
give  the  answer  was  the  great  practical  achievement  of  the 
prophet.  He  had  two  classes  among  his  own  people  to 
deal  with.  Among  the  new  generation  now  grown  up 
there  were  many  who  had  lost  interest  in  the  hope  and 
destiny  of  Israel.  Those  he  sought  to  instruct  and  ener- 
gize. Then  among  even  the  faithful  leadera  were  many, 
perhaps  the  majority,  who  reasoned  that  the  approaching 
change  of  dynasty,  national  and  even  racial  as  it  was,  meant 
only  a  change  of  masters.  To  show  that  it  meant  deliver- 
ance was  now  his  great  prophetic  task.  The  personality  of 
Cyrus  was  necessarily  the  main  human  factor.  He  studied 
Cyrus,  followed  his  career  of  conquest,  and  especially 
his  policy  of  conciliation.  The  truth  was  fliished  on  his 
mind   that    Cyrus   was   Jehovah's    vicegerent  or  Messiah 

1  Wo  have  to  conoiuve  of  spveral  stiiires  :  tlu'  converse  of  the  discif)l('S 
and  the  master  over  the  critical  times  ;  tlie  communioation  to  the  little 
circle  of  the  mind  of  .lehovah  in  broad  suiittestions  as  to  the  duty  and  the 
liope  of  Israel ;  the  preparation  by  the  master  of  s«'parate  discoiirses  free 
and  copious  for  wider  circles ;  the  condensing  and  coordinating  and 
arrangement  of  such  discourses  for  the  permauuut  uses  of  the  coma 
luuuity. 


Book  XI , 

syoiul  tlie 
I'taut  fact 
iioUy  the 
moulded 
ehensive, 
a  school 
duct  the 
-heir  cor- 

phe    was 

low  hard 

Babylon 

sre  ill  the 

w  of  the 

rumental 

whether 

iles.     To 

lit  of  the 

)eople  to 

rowu  up 

lope  and 

nd  ener- 

e  many, 

oaching 

IS,  meant 

deliver- 

nality  of 

studied 

pecially 

on  his 

^lessiah 

e  disciples 
the  little 
ty  and  the 
lursps  free 
atiiig  and 
the  com- 


TTSn 


"Cii.  VI,  §  1409       CERTAINTY  OF   REDEMPTION 


423 


("  anointed  one  ").  It  was  God's  work  that  he  had  been 
doing.  When  Babylon's  time  should  come  to  be  subjected 
to  him,  he  would  still  be  doing  (lod's  work.  And  how  so 
truly  and  well  as  in  freeing  God's  own  people,  who  were 
predestined  to  a  new  and  more  glorious  national  life  ? 
Hence  Cyrus  became  an  important  factor  in  his  theodicy, 
which  was,  of  course,  not  metaphysical  but  concrete,  and 
to  be  verified  by  the  accomplished  fact. 

§  1409.  Hence,  while  the  Restoration  was  the  end  in 
view,  it  was  not  the  mode  but  the  certainty  of  its  accom- 
plishment that  forms  the  prophet's  argument.  Character- 
istic of  him  is  his  serene  outlook  upon  the  action  of  the 
gigantic  forces  that  were  to  bring  about  the  result,  and  his 
estimate  of  their  relative  competency.  The  world  was  tilled 
not  merely  with  the  fame  but  with  the  deeds  of  Cyrus. 
There  was  and  had  been  nothing  seen  or  temporal  to  match 
him.  As  far  as  tangible  power  was  concerned  the  prophet's 
own  client,  Israel,  was,  even  as  compared  with  moribund 
Babylonia,  a  mere  worm  of  the  dust  (xli.  14).  This  genu- 
inely prophetic  and  patriotic  sense  of  the  limitations  of  its 
own  national  power  —  something  so  hard  to  be  acquired  by 
any  people,  Hebrews  or  Romans,  Boers  or  Britons  —  had 
been  literally  pounded  into  Israel  through  its  centuries  of 
tribulation.  It  was  now  indeed  an  ever-present  thought  in 
the  mind  of  the  bewildered  exiles.  IsiJiel,  therefore,  was 
not  a  factor  in  the  movement,  except  as  it  was  itself  to  be 
moved.  C3'rus  had  the  field  to  himself.  Even  to  the  com- 
mon man  in  Israel,  no  one  else  was  in  sight.  But  .march- 
ing beside  him,  and  holding  his  riglit  hand,  though  lie 
knew  it  not,  and  knew  Ilini  not  (xlv.  4),  was  One  who  was 
subduing  the  nations  before  him,  throwing  open  the  gates 
of  cities,  endowing  him  with  his  eagle-like  swiftness  and 
eas}^  success  (xli.  2  ff.;  xlv.  1  f. ;  xlvi.  11).  And  all  this 
was  being  done  not  for  C^-rus  liimself,  not  for  the  Persians 
or  the  Medes,  the  Lydians  or  the  Greeks,  but  for  the  puny 
remnant  of  Israel,  exiled  for  two  generations  from  their 
home  across  the  desert! 


ill' 


i;i 


!t. 


wmmmm 


424 


THE  GREAT  TIIEOI'IIANY 


Book  XI 


I. 

M!' 


Mi 


H  11; 


p 

i 
i 

(       ■; 

f:i     ■ 

'■1 

'^       ■ 

'  !■■    ■ 


§  1410.  How  the  career  of  Cyrus  was  to  affect  Israel 
was  not  the  concern  of  tlie  propliet.  He  did  not,  strictly 
speaking,  foresee  events;  he  saw  conditions.  Prediction 
is  essentially  a  view  of  details,  while  the  spiritual  element 
in  prophecy  has  primarily  not  to  do  with  results,  but  with 
factors  and  principles  and  their  divinely  constituted  inner 
relations.  Thus  while  the  dazed  secretaries  of  Nabonidns 
were  noting  the  crossing  of  the  Tigris,  and  the  surrender 
of  Sipi)ar  and  of  Babylon  itself,  and  while  the  word  came 
swiftly  down  the  Shatt-en-Nil  and  along  the  Kebar  that 
Babylonia  had  become  Persian,  the  prophet  was  not  greatly 
surprised.  He  had  had  a  vision  already  which  had  seemed 
to  involve  these  or  some  such  incidental  affairs.  He  has 
given  us  his  theophany,  compared  with  which  the  finest 
lyric  representations  of  Jehovah's  interventions  (Ps.  xviii. ; 
Mic.  i.;  Hab.  iii.)are  as  the  Jordan  is  to  the  Euphrates,  or  as 
Sharon  is  to  Eden:  "Hark!  there  is  a  voice  crying:  Clear 
away  in  the  wilderness  the  path  of  Jehovah ;  level  up  in 
the  desert  a  highway  for  our  God.  Every  valley  shall  be 
raised,  and  every  mountain  and  hillock  shall  be  lowered ; 
and  the  rugged  ground  shall  be  made  level  and  the  ridges 
a  plain ;  and  the  glory  of  Jehovah  shall  be  revealed ;  and 
all  flesh  shall  see  it  together,  for  the  mouth  of  Jehovah 
hath  spoken  it"  (xl.  3-5). 

§  1411.  Yet  our  prophet  did  also  make  great  account 
of  Cyrus  and  of  the  world  outside  of  Israel.  Herein  lies 
the  sanity  and  trueness  of  his  vision.  To  Cyrus,  a  non- 
Isrjielite,  even  a  non-Semite,  is  given  a  unique  distinction. 
He  is  called  the  anointed  and  the  friend  ^  of  Jehovah.  He 
is  the  one  whom  Jehovah  calls  in  righteousness.^  Jehovah 

1  Isa.  xliv.  28  ;  read  'p  "my  friend"  for  'V^  "my  shepherd"  (aa  also 
in  Zech.  xiii.  7).  Two  parallels  have  been  quoted  in  §  13i)3  :  "  In  all  the 
nations  he  surveyed  his  friends,"  and,  more  striking  still,  "going  by  his 
side  as  a  friend  and  companion." 

*  xlii.  6,  so  also  xli.  2,  cf.  xlv.  13,  See  again  §  1.303:  "a  righteous 
prince  after  his  own  heart."  Tlie  contention  of  G.  A.  Smith  {The  Book 
of  Isaiah  II,  166)  that  the  expressious  about  "righteousness"  on  the 


w 


Book  XI 

^   .  I 

ct  Israel 
,  strictly 
rediction 
element 
but  with 
ted  inner 
abonidu.s 
lUrrender 
[)rd  came 
jbar  that 
)t  greatly 
d  seemed 
He  has 
the  finest 
t*s.  xviii. ; 
ites,  or  as 
\g:  Clear 
ivel  up  iu 
Y  shall  be 
owered ; 
16  ridges 
ed ;  and 
Jehovah 

account 
•rein  lies 
a  non- 
jtinction. 
'ah.     He 

Jehovah 


(as  also 
'  In  all  the 
|)ing  by  his 

righteous 

\The  Book 

i"  on  the 


Cii.  VI,  §  1411 


THE   CALL  OF  CYRUS 


425. 


calls  him  by  name,  and  surnames  him  as  well.*  What  makes 
the  tribute  more  impressive  is  that  the  language  is  imitated 
from  that  of  C3'rus  himself,  with  reference  to  the  patron 
god  of  Babylon.'-^  Our  prophet  gives  him  a  nobler  calling. 
Specifically  as  a  co-worker  with  Jehovah,  he  is  to  rebuild 
Jerusalem,  lay  the  foundations  of  the  Temple  (xliv.  28), 
find  (xlv.  13)  restore  the  exiles  to  their  homes.  His  larger 
commission  was,  to  be  the  instrument  of  letting  the  world 
know  that  Jehovah  was  God  alone  (xlv.  6).  How  is  all 
this  to  be  understood  and  justified  ?  As  already  said,  we 
are  not  in  this,  or  in  any  other  foreciist  of  the  sort,  to 
look  for  a  fulfilment  in  detail.'*  There  are  two  things  only 
which  touch  the  character  of  the  inspired  prophecy.  One 
is  the  character  of  Cyrus,  and  the  other  is  his  religion. 
Unless  these  were  approved  by  the  prophet  to  whom  both 


cylliulei  and  in  Isaiah  II,  are  not  parallel  is  only  teciinically  correct. 
They  run  rather  on  converging  lines.  The  rigliteous  Cyrus  was  the 
agent  whom  Jehovah  sought  and  called  in  and  for  righteousness. 

1  xlv.  4.  The  exact  parallel  is  in  the  words  of  Cyrus  (§  lMi>;>)  :  " '  Cyrus, 
king  of  Anshan,'  he  called  his  name."  To  "name"  is  here  to  choose 
beforehand,  to  predestinate.  Tiie  phrase  is  used  very  frequently  in  the 
inscriptions  of  the  choice  of  a  king  (sometimes  ages  beforehand)  by  his 
patron  god  to  rule  as  his  vicegerent.  To  bear  a  name  means  also  in  Baby- 
lonian (and  Hebrew)  to  have  an  existence  ;  in  connection  with  the  divine 
election  the  underlying  notion  is  therefore  that  of  calling  into  being. 
The  ".surname"  ("u:)  is  an  honorific  title,  like  the  cognate  Arabic 
kunya  and  the  Latin  cognomen.  Comparing  with  xliv.  5  we  learn  that 
"Cyrus,  king  of  Anshan,"  is  analogous  to  "Jacob  Israel." 

*  Our  prophet  was  doubtless  familiar  with  the  language  of  Rabyloiuan 
royal  annals  and  proclamations,  and  a  general  reference  to  the  phraseol- 
ogy would  not  be  surprising.  But  such  close  analogies  with  several  expre.s- 
sions  occurring  in  one  brief  section  of  an  inscription  of  Cyrus  himself  can 
scarcely  be  accidental.  Is  it  not  probable  that  in  the  literary  working  up 
of  the  discourses  after  the  fall  of  Babylon  the  author  adapted  the  phrases 
in  question  from  the  cylinder  of  Cyrus  then  just  published  ?  I  have  not 
by  any  means  exhausted  the  parallels.  In  the  quotation  §  IJiSW  every 
expression  of  the  passage  beginning,  "  In  all  the  lands,"  seems  to  be  imi- 
tated and  specially  applied  by  the  prophet. 

*  Yet,  after  all,  the  only  fulfilment  required  by  the  terms  of  the  pre- 
diction is  that  which  has  been  already  noted  in  §  1309> 


■'U 


i 


1 


y    1  t 


426 


CIIARACTEU  C)F  CYUU8 


Book  XI 


s;,  i; 


1'    '"^ 


hi  V 


f     .1 


t,1 


rr 

-,v   - 

1 

i* 

were  fully  known,  he  could  not  have  either  honestly  or 
intelligently  written  of  him  as  he  did.* 

§  1412.  The  material  for  a  judgment  of  the  character 
of  Cy'us  is  scanty;  but  it  is  in  a  general  way  conclusive. 
The  Hrst  thing  to  be  noted  is  the  largeness  of  his  fame. 
In  his  own  land  his  name  is  still  a  Iiousehold  word,  sur- 
viving all  political  and  social  revolutions.  No  man  out- 
side the  Greek  and  Roman  world  has  been  so  much  the 
theme  of  the  classical  writera,  historians,  poets,  and  philos- 
ophers. No  one  outside  of  Israel  has  such  a  place  in  the 
Hebrew  literature.  This  singular  preeminence  of  sacred 
and  secular  renown  can  have  but  one  explanation.  We 
may  take  for  granted  what  may  be  called  his  Napoleonic 
qualities,  force  t)f  will,  energy,  enterprise,  versatility.  But 
these  are  not  the  substance  of  his  traditional  reputation, 
which  was  that  of  a  good  rather  than  of  a  great  man.* 

§  1413.  His  military  genius  may  be  taken  for  granted. 
But  we  have  already  had  reason  to  note  the  absence  of  a 
merely  aggressive  spirit  in  his  wars  (§  1390).    Of  his  states- 

>  That  is  to  say,  ("yriis  appears  here  as  the  agent,  not  as  the  mere 
instrument  of  Jeliovalj.  If  he  were  only  tlie  latter,  his  character  might 
be,  at  least  according  to  the  ruling  doctrine,  a  matter  of  indifference,  as 
is  that,  for  example,  of  Cecil  Rhodes  to  those  present  day  prophets  who  see 
the  cause  of  righteousness  prevailing  in  South  Africa. 

2  As  far  as  they  go,  his  own  records  already  cited  confirm  the  impres- 
sion produced  by  Isaiah  II.  The  popular  estimate  of  him  is  still  based 
upon  the  accounts  of  the  Greek  writers,  above  all  Herodotus  and  Xenophon. 
The  former  mentions  his  repeated  acts  of  generosity  to  his  rivals  and 
otherwise  gives  a  favourable  picture.  His  story  of  the  death  of  Cyrus 
at  the  hands  of  the  queen  of  the  Ma.ssagetie  is  told  to  illustrate  an 
underlying  a.ssumption  of  his  history  that  acts  of  violence  and  presump- 
tion are  followed  by  divine  punishment  (cf.  Duncker,  History  of  Autiquity, 
Eng.  tr.,  VI,  121).  The  Cyropmlki  of  Xenophon  wa.s  written  to  show 
to  the  individualizing  Greeks  thivt  several  distinct  peoples  could  form  a 
single  nation  and  be  governed  successfully  by  one  man.  Hence  the 
idealizing  of  the  life  and  work  of  Cyrus  (cf.  Duncker,  ib.  V,  358).  But 
Xenoplion  had  good  opportunities  of  learning  from  the  Persians  the  es.sen- 
tial  traits  in  the  character  of  their  hero.  The  men  of  the  fifth  century 
B.C.,  moreover,  were  able  to  trace  the  enduring  results  of  the  career  of 
Cyrus  :  they  could  measure  the  shatlow  which  was  still  cast  by  his  person- 
ality upon  tlie  face  of  western  Asia  aud  eastern  Europe. 


P^ 


Book  XI 

1_ 

louestly  OP 

3  character 
conclusive. 
I  his  fame, 
word,  8ur- 
inan  out- 
much  the 
and  plulos- 
hice  in  the 
!  of  sacied 
tion.  VVe 
Napoleonic 
ility.  IJut 
reputation, 
man.'* 
)r  granted, 
ixsence  of  a 
'  his  states- 

as  tlie  mere 
meter  might 
Jifferencf,  as 
)het8  who  see 

tlie  impres- 

still  based 

Xenoi)h(in. 

rivals  and 

til  of  Cyrus 

Ilustrate  an 

d  i)resiinip- 

f  Autiquittj, 

en  to  show 

nild  form  a 

Hence  the 

358).     Rut 

s  the  essen- 

fth  century 

6  career  of 

his  person- 


Cii.  VI,  §  1415 


STATKSMAN   AND   HVLVM 


42T 


manship  and  his  habit  of  command  we  can  speak  more 
positively.  He  swayed  men  and  nations  with  equal 
facility  and  by  the  same  sort  of  faculty,  winning  their  alle- 
giance by  winning  their  hearts.  He  was  magnaninjous, 
considerate,  tolerant,  as  well  as  wise  and  daring.  His 
spirit  was  cosmopolitan,  and  his  happy  genius  fitted  him 
to  deal  with  all  the  races  of  the  world.  It  was  a  new 
thing  in  history  to  find  conquered  peoples  quietly  accpii- 
escing  in  a  dominion  wielded  from  a  cMMitre  a  thousand 
miles  away.  The  marvel  increases  when  we  think  how 
diverae  his  subjects  were,  of  whom  the  most  j)rominent 
only  were  Pei-sians,  Medes,  Armenians,  Scythians,  Lyd- 
ians,  Greeks,  Babylonians,  Aramaeans,  Palestinians,  not  to 
mention  the  sulxlivisions  of  each,  or  the  unclassided  east- 
ern communities.  And  this  array  of  peoples,  never  before 
united  under  one  or  two  or  three  sovereignties,  were  for  a 
time  fused  into  one  by  the  magic  of  his  genius.  His  faculty 
of  oi'ganization  alone,  supreme  as  it  was,  could  not  have 
sustained  his  power  during  a  month  of  his  lifetime. 

§  1414.  We  see  a  moral  trait  also  in  his  new  art  of  gov- 
erning, which  gave  freedom  of  action  to  each  section  of 
his  empire,  and  thereby  attiiche*!  all  to  the  central  power. 
It  had  not  occurred  to  his  Semitic  predecessors  that  any 
subject  could  serve  the  state  voluntarily.  Tiglathpile- 
ser  III,  Nebuchadrezzar,  and  Cyrus  stand  for  three  Ori- 
ental types  of  government.  The  first  aimed  to  rule  by 
denationalizing  and  disintegrating,  the  second  by  denation- 
alizing and  conserving,  the  third  by  local  protection'  and 
personal  oversight.  This  was  as  far  as  it  was  possibh;  to 
go  in  the  direction  of  local  self-government  without  re[)ie- 
sentation  of  the  provinces  in  the  councils  of  the  emi>ire. 
And  it  was  an  unspeakable  blessing  to  the  peo[)le  of 
western  Asia,  harassed  as  they  had  been  for  ages  by 
tax-gatherers  and  slave-drivers. 

§  1415.  As  far  as  the  Semitic  realm  was  concerned  the 
most  signal  boon  of  the  new  system  was  that  outgrowth  of 
the  sympathetic  spirit  of  Cyrus,  the  revocation  of  the  old 


w 


m 


428 


LIBRTIATOR  ANP  rROTKCTOIl 


Book  }fl 


V     I 


1'^: 


■rl 


m- 


l:.jf:    -  J,   , 


Assyrian  systt'iii  of  tlio  (It'ijoitiitioii  aiul  exilo  of  ofTt'iidiii^ 
Huhji'i'ts.  To  hiivo  put  an  end  to  this  eusiuni  was  of  itself 
a  uni(iue  distinction.  Hut  it  was  the  rarest  kinj,dy  8yni- 
pathy  which  led  him  to  decree  that  those  already  cap- 
tive should  be  restored  to  home  and  country.  One  can  feel 
that  this  is  the  mains[iring  of  the  personal  gratitude  and 
admiration  felt  for  (^yrus  hy  our  prophet,  as  he  sets  before 
us  in  rapid  strokes  the  i)athetic  picture  of  an  Oriental 
prison  and  tiie  joy  of  deliverance:  "'J'he  crami)ed-up  cap- 
tive hastens  to  be  freed,  and  he  shall  not  «lie  and  descend 
to  the  pit,  nor  siiall  his  bread  run  short"  (li.  14).* 

§  14K).  The  (luestion  of  the  reliirion  of  C'yius  is  one  of 
historical  interest  sus  well  as  of  Biblical  imi)ortance.  The 
first  thing  that  strikes  us  is  his  tolerance.  Under  him  and 
liis  successors  religious  wars  of  the  Assyrian  or  Semitic 
type  (§  1H9)  were  imi)ossible  and  unknown  (cf.  §  1377). 
IJut  here  again  he  was  not  content  with  relieving  his 
world  of  an  unspeakal)le  curse.  He  became  an  actual 
patron  of  the  local  religions  — endeavoured,  in  fact,  to  have 
as  many  established  churches  as  there  were  sepaiate  peo- 
ples under  his  dominion.  His  j)roclamation  regarding 
the  returning  Hebrews  and  their  worship  in  Jerusalem  is 
matched  by  his  own  report  of  what  he  did  for  the  gods  of 
Babylonia  (§  1398).  It  is  thought  by  some  that  l)eing 
a  Zoroastrian  (§  1376),  he  had  some  sj'mpathy  with  the 
spiritual  religion  of  the  Hebrews.  This  is  not  altogether 
impossible  ;  but  it  does  not  explain  his  patronage  of  other 
forms  of  worship.  Another  opinion  is  that  his  whole  pro- 
cedure was  a  piece  of  good  politics,  and  that  he  showed 
himself  a  religious  indifferentist.  There  is  no  doubt  about 
the  excellence  of  the  politics,  but  indiflferentism  is  not  to 
be  inferred  from  his  policy.     This  notion  that  Cyrus  was 

>  We  should  not  forget  that  this  is  Hebrew  prophetic  poetry.  Our 
author  does  not  mean  to  dt'scribe  here  the  lot  of  the  average  exile.  But 
his  artistic  sense  is  justifled.  It  is  the  extreme  instance  which  shows  the 
effect  of  the  system  or  the  principle.  In  Oriental  dungeons  men  starve  to 
death,  unless  ministered  to  (Matt.  xxv.  44)  by  friends  ;  cf.  §  1227. 


Book  XI 

f  offending 
las  of  itself 

Itejuly  cap- 
)mj  can  ivcX 
ititiulu  and 
sets  l)t'foie 
in  Oriental 
[)e(l-ni)  laj)- 
nd  descend 

IS  is  one  of 

^nce.     The 

ler  him  and 

or  Semitic 

if.  §  1377). 

lieving  liis 

an  actual 

let,  to  have 

)arate  peo- 

rcgarding 

usalem  is 

le  gods  of 

lat  Injing 

with  the 

altogether 

of  other 

hole  pro- 

le  showed 

ubt about 

is  not  to 

yrus  was 

:)etry.  Our 
exile.  But 
1  shows  the 
?n  starve  to 
227. 


Cii.  VI,  §  1417  TIIK  CYUrs  OF   HISTORY 


429 


a  man  of  no  religion  is  only  less  ill-cjonsidercd  than  the 
view  formerly  held  '  that  he  learned  the  superiority  of 
.Ieh(»vah  frt)m  these  very  prophecies.  What,  however,  is 
reasonably  certain  is  that  he  was  neither  an  agnostic  nor  a 
bigot,  but  a  serious  Zoroastrian ;  that,  as  a  follower  of 
Ahuraniazda,  he  believed  in  the  principles  and  practice  of 
righteousness  and  in  the  possibility  of  its  advancement ; 
that  as  I  good  man  he  abhorred  the  idea  of  using  force  to 
spread  h's  religious  views,  and  as  a  sagacious  rtdcr  he  was 
aware  of  ti.e  futility  of  that  time-honoured  practice;  thiit 
while  the  religious  motive  actuated  his  career,  it  acted 
within  as  an  impelling  and  directing  force,  and  not  without 
as  sm  occasion  of  wrong  an<l  misery  ;  that  he  saw  sullicient 
good  in  all  the  greater  religions  to  justify  him  in  both 
tolerating  and  encouraging  them ;  and  that  he  i)romolcd 
the  hapi)iness  and  welfare  of  his  sul)jects  by  giving  them 
the  opportunity  of  serving  (Jod  according  to  the  dictates 
of  conscieiuie. 

§  1417.  Cyrus,  Alexander,  Cipsar,  these  three  changed 
the  face  of  the  ancnent  world.  Men  of  the  after  time, 
even  more  than  men  of  their  own  day,  liave  been  awe- 
struiik  l)y  the  almost  superhuman  genius  and  force  of  these 
rulers  of  the  race.  The  historian,  as  he  looks  before  and 
after,  is  moved  more  to  thought  and  wonder  by  the  efJccts 
of  their  deeds  than  by  their  deeds  themselves,  by  whiit 
they  left  for  others  to  do  rather  than  by  their  own  achieve- 
ments. Such  men  can  have  no  successors;  and  when  they 
pass  away,  the  world  after  them  has  to  be  made  over  again. 
After  Cyrus  came  Cambyses,  and  then  the  collapse,  inevit- 
able when  the  force  of  the  one  strong  hand  had  been  fully 
spent.  Under  the  great  Darius  the  structure  was  recom- 
posed,  in  part  at  least,  after  the  mind  of  the  founder;  and 
the  Persian  dominion  was  better  for  the  harassed  races  of 

'  Based  in  part  on  Ezra  i.  2  ff.  and  in  part  on  the  statement  of  Jose- 
phus  (Ant.  xi,  2)  tliat  the  predictions  of  "Isaiah"  relating  to  him  were 
shown  to  him  after  the  capture  of  Babylon,  and  tliat  he  was  seized  with 
•a  desire  to  fullil  them  by  restoring  the  Hebrew  exiles. 


I 


till    i 


lit     <,i 


il 


'm 


•i 

li: 


!»■■ 


f '  .1' 


1'  iM'"iwm! 


.\\ 


M 


4.30 


PROl'IIKCY   AND   ITS   IDEAL 


BuoK  XI 


Asia  than  the  outworn  yoke  of  Seniitism.  Yet  the  g'enial- 
ity,  the  tact,  and  the  Iniinanity  of  Cyrus  were  wanting. 
These,  however,  were  rather  the  attrihutes  of  an  ideal 
ruh'r,  such  as  the  worhl  has  8ehh)ni  seen,  but  sucli  as, 
through  and  since  Cyrus,  it  has  desired  and  expected. 
Hence  the  better  part  of  the  ('yrus  of  history  and  [)ropliecy 
is  not  that  which  he  wrought  for  the  Hebrews  or  the 
Hahyionians  (»r  the  Persians,  but  tliat  which  he  was  and 
is  for  humanity. 

§  1418.  As  witlj  this  liero  of  projdiecy  so  was  it  witli 
prophecy  itself.  The  beauty  aixl  glory  of  the  Second  Isaiah 
were  not  reflected  in  tin;  state  or  church  of  those  exiles 
that  returncil  to  I'alcstine  by  the  leave  and  encourage- 
ment of  the  great  deliverer.  No  contrast  could  be  greater 
than  that  between  the  prophetic  i)icture  of  Israel's  restora- 
tion and  its  actual  process.  Instead  of  "songs  and  ever- 
lasting joy"  (Isa.  li.  3,  11)  there  was  continual  bitterness 
of  soul.  Instead  of  imperial  patronage  and  aid  (xlix.  23) 
there  was  mere  ollicial  tolerance  or  neglect.  Instead  of  a 
host  of  eager  patriots  triumphantly  reclaiming  .lehovah's 
land  am',  thronging  thither  from  the  ends  of  the  earth 
(Isa.  xlix.  lt>  ft'.),  a  feeble  band  of  settlers  were  huddled 
between  the  mounds  of  Jerusalem,  which  long  rcnuiined 
without  the  bare  essentials  of  walls  and  tenii)le.  Nor 
were  the  si)iritual  visions  and  hopes  of  the  great  prophet 
of  the  Kxile  more  fully  realized.  The  new  Jerusalem, 
which  was  to  be  a  light  to  the  (Jcntiles  (xlix.  (»)  itiid  tlu; 
hospit  ble  shrine  of  votaries  from  the  north  jind  west,  and 
even  fr')m  the  far  land  of  China  (xlix.  12),  became  the  seat 
of  a  formal  and  exclusive  worship,  with  a  miiuite  and  rigor- 
ous ritvial  as  the  handbook  of  the  most  sjtiritual  of  religions. 

§  141SK  Hut  all  this  was  inevitable,  and  in  the  order  of 
providence  if  not  according  to  the  letter  of  prophecy.  Is 
there  a  contradiction  here?  No,  only  a  paradox.  If  the 
God  of  providence  is  also  the(i«>d  of  prophtny,  the  paradox 
is  solved  as  soon  as  we  understand  history,  which  is  only 
the  human  side  of  providence.     History  is  the  fultilment 


^HT 


Cii.  VI,  §  1420    PHOrilECY,  PROVIDENCE,  IIISTOIIY 


4:il 


oartli 
luldlod 
niuiiu'd 
Nor 
)roi)ht't 
iisiilt'in, 
1(1  tlu; 
st,  aiul 
H'  seat 

i^'ioiis. 
xh'V  o{ 
V.  Is 
If  i\w. 
radox 
(inly 
liiient 


of  prophecy  as  the  finished  statue  or  painting  is  the  fullil- 
nient  of  the  artist's  dream,  with  the  superatlded  details  of 
toil  and  eirtumstanco.  If  (lod  rules  tluf  world,  then  the 
actual  njust  he  the  slow  hut  sure  fuUilinent  of  his  ideal. 
And  his  ideal,  if  any  of  his  votaries  have  caught  it  at  all, 
has  hei'U  caught  hy  the  Ilehrev/  prophets.  It  is  their 
visions  and  none  other  that  are  hcing  ful tilled  in  the  nmral 
progress  of  our  race.  The  visions  of  the  jirophcls  arii 
truer  for  us  than  the  half-learn«'(l  incidents  of  history, 
hecause  they  herald  the  fixed  and  lu'cessary  issues  to 
which  human  events  and  actions  ttMid  in  their  /.ig/ag  and 
unceitain  course.  Moreover,  the  prophetic  itlcal  is  a 
living  force  which  assures  its  own  fullilnient  (§  l.'J). 
I*rt)phe(iy  is  thus  not  nu-rely  the  interpreter  and  the  fore- 
runner of  history,  but  also  its  guide  and  its  goal.  If  there 
is  anything  fortuitous,  it  is  the  fate  of  men  and  nations. 
If  there  is  anything  certain,  it  is  the  progress  of  the  pro- 
phetic ideal:   justice,  kindness,  humility  (Mic.  vi.  <X). 

§  1420.  As  we  close  our  present  survey,  (wo  ideas  of  in- 
tinite  regenerative  [lotency  appear  on  the  spiritual  liorizon, 
[irojected  by  our  last  great  pro[)het  —  a  universal  brother- 
hood of  men  redeemed  hy  Jehovah's  grace,  and  the  vo- 
den>[)tive  ministry  of  Jehovah's  suffering  Servant.  'J'hese 
ideas  are  the  forces  that  lu'al  and  U|)lift  our  luirt  and 
stricken  liumanity.  The  last  e.iemies  to  be  destroyed  in 
human  society  are  tribalism  surviving  in  militarism,  and 
injustice  nuiteriali/ed  in  cruel  greed.  They  involve  or 
induce  all  forms  of  impiety,  crinu*,  and  nnsery  ;  and  in 
some  of  the  most  illusi\t'  ;iiid  noxious  of  their  disguises 
they  deceive  the  very  elect.  Against  them  the  Hebrew 
prophets,  with  their  (Joel  the  Christ  and  their  true  succes- 
sors, have  declared  and  waged  eternal  war.  With  weaj)ons 
that  are  not  carnal,  but  yet  are  mighty  bef(ue  (lod  to  the 
casting  down  of  strongholds,  they  shall  wi.i  the  day.  Ah'U 
shall  htudy  war  no  more  ;  the  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth. 


.i.^ 


m:M:: 


i-  'I 

J.  ; 


CHUONOLOCJICAL   OL'TIJNES 


I 


n.c. 
Before  7000. 


Before  0000. 


Before  5000. 


5000-4000. 


c.  4000. 
c.  ;1800. 

c.  3700. 
c.  3000. 
c.  3000, 
c.  2280. 
c.  2240. 


c.  2000. 
c.  IIKX). 

c.  1000. 
c.  1680. 

c.  1500. 
2r 


First  agricultural  settlements  in  the  Delta  of  the  Euphrates 
in  north  Babylonia,  the  sitos  of  the  later  soutli  Baby- 
lonian settlements  being  still  under  the  slowly  receding 
waters  of  tlie  Persian  CJulf. 

Scniitic  emigration  to  Kgypt,  probably  by  way  of  South 
Arabia;  agricultural  settlements  in  Middle  iCgypt. 
Founding  of  cities,  as  N'ippur  .and  Kish,  in  central  and 
northern  Babylonia.  Nippur,  a  central  Semitic  sanctu- 
ary sacred  to  BCl. 

Ri.se  of  south  Babylonian  cities,  as  Erecli  and  T'r.  Kingdom 
of  Simmer  (Shinar)  in  central  Babylonia.  Development 
of  petty  kingdoms  in  the  lower  Nile  valley. 

Successive  rise  of  kingdf>ms  throughout  Babyloiiia.  Akkad 
in  north  Babylonia  takes  tlie  i)lace  of  Sliumer.  I^agasli 
(Shirpurla),  then  close  to  the  Persian  Gulf,  rises  to  prom- 
inence in  s(mth  Babylonia.  Upper  and  Lower  Egypt 
develr)p  rival  kingdoms. 

Union  of  Upper  and  Lower  Egypt  —  First  dynasty. 

Empire  of  Akkad  extends  to  the  Mediterranean  un<ler  Sar- 
gon  I,  and  Narani-Sin. 

Age  of  the  great  i)yramids  in  Egypt. 

South  Babylonia  dominant  in  west  Asia. 

City  of  Ur  dominant  in  Babylonia. 

Babylonia  subdued  by  the  Klaniites. 

Kise  of  city  of  Babylon.  Chamnuirabi  (Amrapliel  of  Gen. 
xiv. )  its  king  expels  the  Elamites  and  unites  all  Baby- 
lonia. 

Shepherd  chiefs  (Hyksos)  found  Asiatic  dynasty  in  Egypt. 

Babylonians  completely  occupy  an<l  civilize  Syria  and 
Palestine,     A  large  part  of  Israel  goe.s  down  to  Kgyi)t. 

Babylonians  retire  from  Syria  lUd  Palestine. 

llylcsos  expelled  from  E?ypt.  Asiatics  oppressed.  Hard- 
ships of  Israel  in  Egyi-l  begin. 

Egyptian  empire  founded  in  Syria  and  Palestine. 
433 


f 


?m  *p" 


■M 


434 


CHRONOLOGICAL  OUTLINES 


W. 


■{V  iM 


11 


i  ■ 


m 


'".■  I 


i . 


i 


lit     If 


i  in 


s  1951 


n.c. 
c.  1400. 

c.  132G. 


1200. 
1200. 
1  ISM). 
1170. 

ii:io. 

1100. 


c.  1080. 


c.  1050. 

c.  i(»;io. 

C.  1000. 

c.    !KJ5. 

c.    1t')0. 

945. 

934. 

1)29. 
918. 
915. 
913. 
911. 
890. 

888. 
887. 
880. 

875. 

872. 

855. 
854. 

853. 

850. 


Rise  of  the  Ilettite  league  in  Syria.    Egyptians  give  way  to  tbem 

in  Syria. 
Treaty  between   Raineses  II  of   Egypt  and  the  Ilettite  king; 

Egyptians  retaui  I'alcstinc,  and  Ihatitcs  Syria. 
Merneptah  of  Egypt  Mibdues  Palestinian  Israelites. 
Exodus  of  Hebrews  from  Egypt. 
Egyptians  retire  wholly  from  ralestine. 
Entrance  of  Egyptian  Israelites  into  Canaan. 
Deborah  and  Harak  judge. 
Assyria  becomes  nuu'o  powerful  than  Babylonia,  but  does  not 

occupy  the  latter  country,     (ildeon  judges. 
Decline  of  Egypt,  Assyria,  and  Babylonia  gives  opportunity  for 

development  to  Aranneans  in  Syria  (Damascus,  Zobah,  etc.) 

and  to  Israel,    with   other   peoples,   in  I'alestine.     Jeptbah 

judges. 
Samuel  judges. 
Saul  is  made  king. 
David  begins  to  reign. 
Solomon  begins  to  reign, 
remple  in  Jerusalem  completed. 

Libyan  dynasty  begins  in  Egypt  under  Shishak.     Rise  of  Da- 
mascus. 
DivLsiimof  the  kingdom.     .lerolxiam  I  in  northern  Israel,  Reho- 

boam  in  Judah.     Wars  between  Israel  and  Judal). 
Shishak  invades  Israel  and  Judah. 
Abijah  king  of  Judah. 
Asa  king  of  Judah. 
Nadab  king  of  Israel. 
Baa.sha  king  of  Israel. 
Baasha  loses  territory  in  the  north  to  Ben-hadad  I  of  Damascus. 

Revival  of  Assyrian  power. 
Elah  king  of  Israel. 
Zimri  king  of  Israel. 
Onui  king  of  Israel.     Founding  of  Samaria.     I-ung  {H-aoe  with 

Judah. 
A8.syrians  begin  systematic  conquest  in  Syria.     Ahab  king  of 

Israi'l . 
Jehoshaphat    king   of  Judah.      Alliance  with   Judah   agaiust 

Damascus. 
Peace  with  Damascus  luider  Benhadad  II. 
Shalnumeser  II  wages  battle  at  Karkar  with  a  western  con£e<kr- 

acy,  including  Israel  and  Damascus. 
Truce  broken  ;  Ahab  killed  at  Ramoth-Oilead.      Aha^ciah  and 

Joram  kings  of  Israel. 
Jeliurum  king  of  Judah. 


I' 


lifi 


way  to  them 
[ettite  king ; 


tut  does  not 

•ortunhy  for 
i^ubah,  etc.) 
e.     Jeptbab 


Rise  of  Dar- 
<riul,  Ueko- 


I):iDiaj>ctu. 

[M-ace  with 
b  king  of 
|li   against 

I  confedtT- 
i/.iah  and 


B.C. 

843. 
842. 

830. 


815. 
7JK). 
707. 

783. 

769, 
703. 
701. 
743. 
742. 
741. 
738. 

730. 
735. 

734. 
733. 

728. 
724. 
722. 

710. 
704. 
701. 

000. 
OHi). 
«H1. 
072. 
007. 
048. 
045. 
041. 

621. 


CHRONOLOGICA L   OITLIXKS 


436 


Slialmaneser 


Ahaziah  king  of  Jiulah. 

Jehu   king  of    Israel ;    Athaliah   quoon   of  Judah. 

receives  tribute  from  Jehu. 
Israel  saved  from  dcstruetioii  through  the  attacks  of  Ilazael  of  Da- 
nia.scus  by  the  As.syriau  assaults  upc^u  tlie  latter.    JehuiUih  king 
of  Judah. 
Jehoah.az  king  of  I.srael. 

Kthiopian  inroad  on  r])p;'r  Kgypt.     .loash  king  of  Israel. 
Damascus  taken  by  Kamnum-nirari  III  of  Assyria.     Ama/.iah  king 

of  Israel. 
Revival  of  north  Israel.     Assyrians  ntire.     Jeroboam  II  king  of 

Israel.    Azariah  (I'zziah)  king  of  Judali. 
Expansion  of  Judah.     Azariah  (sole  reign). 
Prophet  Amos. 
Jotham  king  of  Judah. 
Prophet  llosea. 

Zachariah  ami  Shallum  kings  of  Israel. 
Menahem  king  of  Israel. 
Israel  terrorized  and  made  tributary  by  Tiglathpileser  III  (Pul)  of 

Assyria  (745-727).     Jotham  (sule  n-ignj.     Prophet  Isaiaii. 
Pekahiah  king  of  Israel. 
League  of  Damascus  and  nortii  Israel  against  Judah.     Pekah  king 

of  Israel.     Ahaz  king  of  Judah. 
Tiglathpileser  III  invades  Palestine.     Judah  tributary  to  Assyria. 
Damascus  and  Samaria  taken  by  Assyrians  ;  part  of  Israel  deported  ; 

Iloshea  Assyrian  vassal  in  Samaria. 
Kthiopian  dynasty  in  Kgyjit  ("2H-tH5). 
Revolt  of  Hoshea.     Prophet  Micah. 

Sargon  11,  king  of  Assyria  (722-705),  deports  27,200  people  of  Sa- 
maria.    Annexation  to  As.syria. 
Ilezekiah  king  of  Judah. 
He  joins  in  revolt  against  .\ssyria. 
Sinacherib  (Td.'MiKI)  invades    Palestine;  deports  many  people   of 

.Fndah  ;  retires  from  .liiiisalcnt  because  <il'  plauuc  in  his  army. 
Mana.sseh  king. 
Sinacherib  destroys  Ilabyhui. 
Ksar-haddcn  (tlMi-4MIH)  rest.i-.-es  nabyhiu, 
Esar-iiadtlon  conquers  Kuypt. 
As^iiurbaniiial  (<itlH-ii2<h  reconi|uer«  !''.gvpf. 
AssliiirlMni|ial  ends  <:reat  rev. ill   by   capture  of    Habylon. 
Assyrians  withiiraw  from  Egypt. 
A  ^tn  kinir. 


.h 


kinc. 


^wil     it>  line  of  Assyria.     Prophet  .leremiali. 

Fiudmg   'f  the  Uook  of  DireciioM  ;  ffitrm  in  relisrion  and  wurahip. 


i 


* 


b^hBI!^  ^ 

'■ 

1 

'S  Snl''  - 

1 

i^r 

,i 

^       ni^' 

t 

1 

f';; 

1 

r 
( 

. ' , '' 

■  1 

*■■  -i^: 

;•:.: 

' 

It^ 

II 

ir 

v..  I 

I'-   (! 


jj, 

1 

!'  i 

!  ;■ 

486 


B.C. 

620. 
608. 


607. 
604. 

600. 
598. 
507. 
507. 
502. 
588. 
586. 
581. 

507. 
562. 
550. 
550. 
547. 
530. 
538. 


CHRONOLOGICAL  OUTLINES 


I'rophet  Zephaniah. 

riiaraoli-necho  invades  Palestine  and  Syria.    Josiah  killed  in  battle 

with  Necho.     Jehoahaz  and  Jehoiakiin  kings.     Judah  a  vassal 

of  Egypt. 
Nineveh  destroyed  by  Medes.     Propliet  Nahum. 
Neoho   defeated   at  CareluMnlsh  by   Nebuchadnezzar   (604-602). 

Judah  submits  to  Nebuchadnezzar. 
Prophet  llabakkuk. 

Jehoiakim  revolts.     Chaldseans  invade  Judah. 
Jehoiachin  king.    First  captivity. 
Zedekiah  king. 
Prophet  Kzckiel. 

Zedekiah  rebels.    Jerusalem  invested. 
Jerusalem  taken.     Second  captivity. 
Murder  of  the  governor  Oedaliali.       Many  remaining   Hebrews 

migrate  to  Egypt.      Others  deported  — a  thinl  captivity. 
Nebuchadnezzar  conquers  Egypt,  but  does  not  retain  it. 
Evil-Merodach,  king  of  Babylon. 
Nabonidus,  last  king  of  Babylon. 

Cyrus,  prince  of  Persia  and  Elam,  becomes  king  of  the  Medes. 
Cyrus  conquers  Lydia. 

Cyrus  conijuers  Babylon  and  becomes  its  king. 
Proclamation  of  Cyrus  freeing  the  exiles  of  Judah. 


mI' 


lied  in  battle 
dah  a  vas-sal 


(604-502). 


iig   Hebrews 
niy. 


Medes. 


INDEX  I 


SUBJECTS 

The  numbers  refer  to  the  para^^aphs  of  the  work. 
The  tables  of  Contents  should  be  used  in  connection  with  this  Index 
■when  several  references  are  set  down  for  the  same  topic. 


app.  =  appendix 

b.  =  son  of  {hpn) 
bat  =  daughter  of 

C  =  city  or  city  state 
Ch  =  chief 
Cr  =  commander 

D  =  divinity  or  demon 

G  =  governor  or  viceroy 
I  =  island 

J  =  judge 

K  =  king  or  kinglet 


L  =  land,  region,  or  district 
M  =  mountain  or  mountain 

range 
n.  =  note 

O  =  officer  or  oificial 
P  =  people  or  race 
Q  =  queen 
K  =  river 

S  =  settlement  or  site 
T  =  tribe  or  clan 
W  =  watercourse 


1    ; 
'     i 


AahmesI  (K),  144.  340. 
Abdashirti  (Cr),  152. 
Abditaba  (G),  152. 
Abdiii'tu  (K),  675. 
Abel-beth-maacah  (C),  ."iSl,  I.  app. 

!■•!. 
Abijah  (K),  210. 

Abimelech  CK),  49,  18!);  (G),  152. 
Abiyat,e  (Cli),  788. 
Abner  (Cr),  20:i. 
Abraham  (Abram,  Cli).   100,   400. 

412.  445,  447  n.,  T.12  n.',  055,  050. 
Absalom  b.   David,  205,  515,    526, 

071. 
Abu-Habba  (S),  87. 
Abu  Nejm  (S),  120.^. 
Abu  Simbel  (C).  1207. 
Abyssinians    ( ' '  Ethiopians '  * ) ,    18, 


Accho  (Akko,   C),  152,   226,  675, 

780. 
Acluemenes  (Ch),  1:578. 
Acharu("West"),  ViA  n. 
Achbor  (()),  850. 
Acliimiti  (K),  (i;!2,  II.  app.  4. 
Acliish  CK),  107. 
Achuni  (K),  227. 
Adar  (Niueb,  D),  57,  220,  8!8. 
Adiirmalik  b.  Sinacherib,  744. 
Ailbeel  (P),  :5:14. 
Addan  (S).  1273. 
Addar  (C),  162. 
Adinnu  (C).  228. 
Adonijah  b.  David,  205. 
Adonis  (I),  of.  Tanunuz),  330, 1 184  n. 
Adoption,  family,   404;   tribal  and 

national,  548  ff ,  568 ;  see  Strangers. 
Adonibaal  (K),  228. 


437 


438 


INDEX  I 


i 


Ef '  1^ 


;  f 


Adrainmelech,  see  Adannalik. 
Agriculture,  Hebrew,  476,  4M4,  540, 

607  ;  Babylonian,  1270, 1283, 1317. 
A^utn-kaic-riine  (K),  12;{. 
Aliab  (K),  213ff.,  221,  228,  231  ff., 

231>,    61»,    981  f.,    1005;    (exile), 

1100. 
Ahava  (C),  1273  n. 
Ahaz  (K),  270,  308,  317ff.,  326 ff,, 

330  ;  I.  app.  12. 
Ahaziaii  (K),  of  Judali,  221,   230, 

254  ;  of  '♦  iHraol,"  235,  035,  0.38  ff. 
Aliijali  (proplu't),  070. 
Ahikani  b.  Shaplian,  843,  850,  1002. 
Ahrinian  (D),  1370. 
Ahurainazila  (D),  1370,  1410. 
Ai  (C),  185. 
Akaba,  gulf  of,  756. 
Akaba  (C),  780. 
Akkail  (AKadf,  C),  80,  87  ff.,  03  f. 

98  f.    102,    105,    752;    (L),    782, 

1302,  1305  f. 
Akkadian,  see  Sunierians. 
Akkl  (()),89. 
Akzibi  (Ekdippa,  C),  075. 
Aleppo    (Chahnan,   C),    141,    202, 

220,  228,  241. 
Alexander  of  Macedon,  42,  737  w., 

1417. 
AUaUi  (D),  1185. 
Alliance-s,  see  Federations. 
Altruitsni    in   the    Old    Testament, 

Oil  if. ;  among  tlie  Hebrews,  958  f., 

900,  072. 
Alusharsiiid  (K),  01  f. 
Alyattes  III  (K),  775. 
Amalekite.s,  183,  1<.)7,  204,  975. 
Amanus   (M),   90,    125,   201,    219, 

257,  307. 
Amarna  (Tell  el  Amarna,  S),  and  its 

inscriptions,   140  ff. 
Amasis  (Ky,  1305. 
Amaziah  (K),  254,  200  f. 
Amedi  (C,  Diarbekr),  247. 
Amen  (D),  144  f.,  207,  340,  770  n. 
Amenophis   (K),   III,    145ff.,   102; 

IV,  147  ff.,  102,  175. 
Ammonites,  20  (18),   48,   50,   183, 

UK)f.,  1}«5,  204,  209,  215,  228,  203, 

208  f.,  273,  302,  337,  650  m.,  075, 


077,  701,  787,  972,  1078,  1157,, 
1213,  1240,  1243,  1251. 

Anion  (K),  800,  846. 

Amorites,  20,  41,  48,  117,  131, 132  f., 
100,  103,  183 ff.,  201,  Lapp.  3. 

Amos,  the  prophet,  244,  204,  302  ff., 
320,  354,  I.  app.  4,  000,  037 ff., 
1363. 

Amraphel,  see  Chamraurahi. 

Amu  (I'),  132,  135. 

Anat  (D),  850  «. 

Anathoth  (C),  1101,  1221,  1225. 

Animal  worsliip,  1183. 

Ansiian  (L).  98.  100,  1378,  1404. 

Anthropomurphisms,  927. 

Anti-Lebanon,  125. 

Anu  (I)),  172,  850 n. 

Anunit  (I)),  94. 

Aphek  (C),  194,  231,  234,  750. 

Arabah  (L),  202,  273. 

Arabia  and  Arabs  (collectively),  18, 
23,  47  f.,  125  f.,  132,  1.34  f.,  141, 
228,  230,  075,  705 f.  ;  North  A., 
97,  132,  1.54  f.,  103,228,  .334,030, 
708  f.,  741,  754  f.,  780  ff.,  802; 
South  A.,  14.'>,  878 ;  Andw  in 
Babylonia,  114,  117,  4.38  ;  in  Jeru- 
salem, 075. 

Arama'ans,  distribution,  25  (17), 
75  ;  I.  ai)p.  5  ;  achievements.  (J4, 
202,  3(i8  ;  political  conditions,  47, 
284,  280  ;  trade,  04, 141,  202,  212  ; 
language,  701  ;  settlements  and 
history,  100  f.,  179, 188.201  f.,211, 
223,  228,  247,  293,  351,  438.  (iOOf., 
072,  780,  1078 ;  see  especially 
Damascus  and  Mesopotamia, 

Arami  (K).  228. 

Arani-Xaharaim  (L),  76,  132. 

Ararat  (L),  see  Armenia. 

Architecture,  341,  007,  737,  742, 
702,  830, 

Ardys  II  (K),  775. 

Argana  (V),2'2S. 

Argisfis  (K),  250. 

Argo  (I),  34(J. 

Ariel  (.leriisalem),  772. 

Arioch  (K),  108  ff.,  113  f.,  117, 

Ark  of  the  Covenant,  104,  919. 

Armageddon  (C),  146. 


1 


INDEX   I 


4S0 


1078,   1167,. 


131,132!., 
.  app.  3. 
264,  302  ff., 
500,  937  ff., 

•abi. 


1,  1225. 

78,  1404. 

J. 


\,  760. 

;tivply),18, 
l.']4f.,  141, 
Nortli   A., 

8,  .'}34,  030, 

80  ff.,  802; 
Anibs   in 

18  ;  in  Jeru- 

26  (17), 
'iniMits.  04. 
flitioiiH,  47, 

,  202,  212  ; 
liicntH  and 
|201f.,211, 

138,  (iOOf., 

especially 

^auiia. 

|132. 
1737,   742,. 


1117. 
1910. 


Armenia  (L),  164,  170,  222,  247, 
260,  268,  284,  294,  311,  020,  736, 
747,  1403. 

Army  (of.  Warfare  and  Weapons)  : 
Hebrew,  109,  205,  210,  246,  204, 
200,  208  f.,  468,  612  ff.,  Wll,  700, 
879 ;  Hgyptian,  144 ;  Assyrian, 
697  n.,  813;  Medo-l'ersian,  1390. 

Arnon  (It),  183,  '.'43. 

Arpad  (C),  141,  220,  294,  024. 

Ar.sii  (K),  100. 

Art  in  Israel,  209,  1178  n. 

Arvad  (C),  126,  145,  l-Vi,  180,  075. 

Aryans,  contrasted  with  Suuiites, 
6f.,  28 f.,  60;  in  Asiatic  history, 
823,  1373  ff.  ;  of.  Kinnnerians,  Scy- 
thians, GreekH,  Mrdes,  Persians. 

Asa  (K),  211,  21.'..  1247  «. 

Asiludiniinu  (C ),  0.'l2. 

Ashdod  \,C),  192,  0.i2,  0.34  (063  f., 
668  f.),  076,  084,  089,  II.  app.  4, 
1032. 

Asher  (T),  180,  272. 

Ashera  (D),  162  h.,  321,  330,  864. 

Asherites  (P),  630. 

Ashkenaz  (T),  1103. 

Ashtoreth  (Astarte,  cf.  Ishtar,  D), 
137,  200  H.,  213,  321,  866,  860  n., 
071,  1260. 

Asi  (Cyprus,  1),  1.').3. 

Askalon  (C),  162,  192,  332,  076, 
089  ff. 

Asshur  (C),  74,  171  f.,  179 f.,  247, 
258 f.,  283;   (D).  67,  69 f. 

Asshurbanipal  (Assliurbanapil,  K), 
90,  107,  703 ff.,  802,  810  ff.,  II. 
app.  17,  1280. 

Asshur-bel-nislif'su  (K),  176. 

Asslmr-diln    (K),   I,  178;  II,   210;' 
III,  268. 

Asslmr-etil-ililni  (K),  820.  824. 

Asshur-iiadiii-sliiun  (K).  7:59. 

Asshur-airari  (K),26H,  i'81. 

Asshiiriiasiqiiil  ( Asshurnfusnipil,  K), 
180,  210  H.,  282. 

Assliur-rfsh-isliI  (K),  178. 

A.s8liur-iiballit,  (K),  176. 

Asshnr-zakir-slnuu  (K),  071. 

Assiah  (O),  860. 

Assouan  (Syene,  C),  340,  1306. 


Assyria  (L),  74. 

Assyriaas  (P)  :  classification,  18; 
cliaracler,  108  f.,  20«  ;  extension, 
39  f.,  808  f.  ;  culture,  810  ff.  ;  colo- 
nies, 41, 176  ;  trade,  141 ;  political 
tendencies  and  government,  41, 
52,  108,  172,  217,  221  ff.,  282  ff., 
301,  303,  382  ff.,  723,  743,  1060, 
1402  ;  religion  and  deities,  67,  .'i!>, 
108  f.,  172,  220,  228,  269,  040; 
achievements,  06,  3ti6f.,  ;iOH,  83ii ; 
language,  80  ff. ,  115,  163  f.  ;  monu- 
ments, 217,  220  H.,221  »(.,  237.  242, 
218,  208,  281  H.,  I.  app.  0,  16,  10, 
000 f.,  076,  090,  767,  817,  II.  app. 
9,  10,  17  ;  general  history,  70,  7H, 
146,  160,  166,  170  ff.,  and  see  Con- 
tents ;  relations  witli  Syria  and 
I'alestine,  KU,  174,  212,  2.'.(»n. , 
294,  306  ff.,  :\M,  .331  If.,  343  f.,  ;U9 
ff.,612,  6.")0,024f.  ;  rclaticnis  with 
Kgypt,  160,  332,  026,  O.iO,  0.!2, 
076,  078  f.,  70.'.,  708  ff.,  760,  701, 
704  ff.,  II.  app.  14. 

Astarte,  see  Ashtoreth. 

Astrology  in  Israel,  860. 

Asfyages  (K),  1380,  1382  ff. 

Alaroth  ((?),  23.'). 

Aten  (I)),  147. 

Athaliah  (Q),  2.36,  264,  .320. 

Athbash  (cypher),  14l)3  «. 

Atlantic  navigated,  42,  00,  10:51. 

Azariah,  see  Uzziah. 

Azeka'\  (C),  121.3. 

Azupiranu  (Ci,  80. 

Azuri  (K),  0.32,  II.  app.  4. 

AzQru  (C),  076. 

Ila'al,  lord  and  husband,  418, 420  n.  ; 

(K),  767,  7<n  n. 
Ilaal  (ba'aliin,    I)),   worship,    69  f., 

137,  213,  :!21.  8.'.6,  W60rt. 
Raalis  (K),  1246. 
Haasha  (Iv),  of  Israel,  211,  1247  «.; 

of  Anunon,  228. 
Bab-salimPli  (C),  780. 
IJahy Ion  (Babel,  C),  34,  39  f.,  Ill  f., 

117,  180,  247,  023,  000  f.,  003,  07:1, 

740,    748  ff.,   783,    1060  ff.,    1273, 

1292  f.,  1371  f.,  1392  ff. 


.'SI 


440 


INDEX   I 


'}H\"  ■ 


11  =  (, 


.ly 


i-'itt  ■ 


n 

IB 

Mam 

if  w 

Babylonia:  extent,  T^i ;  phyBical  as- 
pect, l.'iU. 

BabyloiiiauH  :  ehiHHiflcatlon,  18 ;  age, 
70  ;  character,  122  ;  language,  hco 
AtwyriaiiH  ;  civilizatiun,  7U  fl.  ; 
acliieveiiientH,  M5,  U>'(,  110,  l'>:lf., 
iWyft.,  KWi.  ;  religion  and  deitiea, 
f)7,  87,  »4f..»iHI.,  107  f.,  112,  117, 
122,  7JK),  lUo.Jf.,  KMIOIT.,  1185, 
1:{;J2,  1:140  ;  industry,  1(MJ4,  1270  f.; 
trade,  00 f.,  tHJf.,  10;{,  lOoO ;  pn- 
cralhiHtory,80ff..  110,  I'^J,  17411., 
22;i  f.,  247,  2o;{,  :m)  f.,  07o,  7:J;! «., 

748  IT.,  778  ff.,  822,  1025  f.,  1045  It., 
1:104  ff.;  relations  with  Syria  and 
Talestine,  OOff.,  IMl,  KM),  110,  12:5, 
137,  141,  15:lff.,  174,071),  104:1  f., 
1171,  1210 ff.,  1241.  1250;  rela- 
tions with  KKypt,  iH).  140,  1222, 
1.305  f.;  relations  with  Medo-1'er- 
Bian.s  i;)!H  ff.  ;  monuments,  87  ff., 
05  ff.,  117  «.,  14011.,  1051  «.,  105:1 
n.,  i:t71n.,  1:182  «.,  l:m:ln.  See 
also  Agriculture,  liusinusu,  Water- 
courses. 

llaghdml  (C),  71. 

Haktria  (L),  1''174,  1:180. 

Ilalaam's  prophecies,  805.     , 

llallch  (H),  75,  218,  228,  :}4:l,  302. 

Dan,  the  sacred,  550. 

Uanai-Harka  (('),  075,  006. 

Barak  (J),'  188,  470. 

Barkal  (.M),  :J47. 

Baruch  b.  Nerlah,  1082  n.,  1110  ft., 
1242.  1248,  1254.  i:J5:l. 

Bashan  (L),  180,  24:5,  272,  Mb. 

Bfizu  (1'),  755  M. 

Bedawin,  127. 

Beeiuih  marriage,  412  f. 

Bekenrenf  (IJocchoris,  K),  .347. 

BCl  (1>),  57,04,  112,  :U1,  1284  f. 

Bel  (and  Nebo),  341,  (Mi:{. 

Bel-Cpush  (K),  see  Hfl-ibnC 

Bel-ibne  (K),  1,  172  ;  II,  07:1,  7:15. 

Bel-kapkapu  (K),  172. 

Bel-Merodach  (I)),  1050,  1285. 

Bel-nirirl  (K),  175. 

Belshazzar  (Ch),  II.  app.  3 ; 
(prince).  1:171,  1:502. 

Bel-shum-ishkun  (K),  1370  n. 


Bene-berak,  see  Banal-Darka. 
Benhadad  (K).  I,  211;  11,221,228 

("  Dadda-idri"),    2:il  ff.,   2:50  f., 

241;   111,245. 
Benjamin  (T),   188,  104,   100,  200, 

204,  208,  275. 
Hera  (K),  100. 
Bernard  uf  Clugny,  an  illustration, 

12:i7  «. 
Beth-Ammon,  see  Ammonites. 
Beth-arbel  (('),  314. 
Heth-Dagon  (('),  075,  005. 
Heth-Kden  (L).  227. 
Bethel  (('),  185  f .,  477,  087,  840,  028. 
Hethlehein  (('),  107. 
Heth-shean  (('),  812  h. 
Bethshemesh  (C),200;  (Ileliopolis), 

1255  H. 
ncth-ziti  (C),  076. 
Beyrut  (C),  l.'>2, 
Hinganl  (K),  02. 
im-ChuinrI    (X.    Israel),    1:1:1-212, 

24:1,  248,  :i;il. 
Blt-Dakkfiri  (('),  002. 
HIt-»'lii,  see  Ksagil.a. 
lilt-kr>nn,  see  K/.ida. 
mt-Vi\kin  (L),   223,  310,  004,  000, 

7:13  f.,  761. 
Rlood-revenge,;508, 4(55. 480. 050, 072. 
Itoats  and  rafts,  1:505  anil  u. 
Boer  (|uestion,  illustrated,  065,  1223, 

12.')8  ff. 
Borsippa  (Barzip,  C),  112,  003,  783, 

10(51  It.,  I00:i,  1:502. 
Bribery,  see  Venality,  Gifts. 
Bronze,  I.  app.  3. 
Bubaslis  (C),  ;]45. 
Bunyan  as  a  seer,  1354. 
Burial  of  a  Hebrew  king,  1210  n. 
Burraburiiush  (K),  140,  175. 
Busin»'.ss,  society,  and  morals,  000, 

1318  ff. 
Business    documents,    422  n.,    800, 

1225,  i:l21ff. 
Buz  (I'and  L),  766  n. 
Byblus  (Gebal,  tJubal,  C),  146,  162, 

075. 

I  Cffisar,  .Julius,  700  n.,  1417. 
,  Cain  the  outlaw,  308  ». 


)arka. 
II,  221,228 
1  ff.,  2;J0f., 

4,  100,  200, 


illustration, 
loniteH. 

no. 

87,  840,  928. 
[Ildlopolis), 

I),    l;{:}-212, 

0,  (104,  am, 

80, 050, 072. 

H. 

055,  122:5, 
I,  003,  783, 
iftM. 

1210n. 

"o. 
lorals,  000, 

>2  H.,    800, 
I,  146,  152, 


INDEX  I 


441 


Calfb  thu  Kuiii7./.itt>,  403,  550,  503. 

L'ak'iuiur,  748 /i.  {d.  740  f.),  1344  h. 

Calipliatf,  47. 

CaiiibysfH  (K),  I,  1382;  II,  1307, 
1417. 

Camels,  475. 

CanaanitcH :  clasHiflcation,  24  (18)  ; 
liuw  far  (liHtaiit  from  Ainoritcs, 
131.  I.  app.  3  ;  rttatleuicntH,  120  t1'. ; 
political  tt'ii(leiiri«'H,  37,  47,  40f., 
62  ff.,  127,  144,  184  ;  ciiltiiiv,  141, 
104,  1(10,  184  ;  n-liKioii.  184,  405  ; 
rolatlDiis  with  Isiiul,  185II.,2tM>, 
300  f.,  472  f.,  477  IT..  403  IT.,  'm  f. ; 
rcliitions  with  K^'ypt,  135  ff.,  104. 

Canalti,  see  Wateruouraes. 

Caphtor  (h),  102. 

Cappatloeia  (!-.  Kumiimch,  etc.), 
154,  157,  170,  :;81,  204,  311. 

Captivity,  boo  Deportation,  Kxile. 

Caravan  tralllc,  135,  202,  33 ». 

Carcheniish  (('),  120,  141,  145,  102, 
170,  201  f..  210,  227  f.,  237,  028, 
827,  1043,  1088  f..  1115. 

Carians  (I'),  708,  1:580. 

Carthage  (C),  42.  4:5,  45,  083. 

Caspian  St-a,  247  f. 

Cattle  anions  the  Hebrews,  475. 

Cavalry,  see  Army  and  Horses. 

Census  (cf.  ImjKists).  52.'5. 

Centralism,  Hebrew,  52 ;  Semitiit, 
50  ;  Assyrian,  74:5. 

Centralization  of  worsliip  (cf.  Tem- 
ple), )t02. 

Ceremonialism  in  Israel  (cf.  Ethics 
and  ritual),  1000  f.,  1011  f..  1017, 
1021,  1023,  1020,  1008,  1004,  1114, 
1344. 

Chabet  (P).  1080  h. 

ChabirO  (T),  152. 

Chabor  (Habor,  Chaboras,  K),  71, 
75,218,  343,  302  f. 

*'Chaldiean  Genesis,"  880  n. 

Chaldieans  (V),  18.  112,  22:5  f..  237, 
247 f.,  203.  3:50f..  4:58.  021  ff.,  000 
fl.,071ff.,733ff.,751,78Of..784f., 
822,  1040  ft.,  1000  ff.,  1120ff. 

Chalule  (C),  739. 

Chammurabi  (Amraphcl,  K),  100, 
111,  113  f.,  117,  1060  n.,  1286. 


Chanirabbat  (L,  cf.  Chilnu),  740  f. 
Chftnu  (I-,  .\.  Syria),  123,  101  n. 
Chantin  (K),  :i:>2,  025. 
Chariots  (cf.  Army),  144,  610 f. 
Charriln  (Harun,  t";,  20,  47,  75,  141, 

874,  13H3  f. 
Charu  (S.  W.  I'ul.-stine),  i:52. 
C'iiastity  amon^  Ihc  Hebrews,  010  f.  ; 

cf.  Sexual  Morality. 
Chattin  (L,  I'atin  ?),  220 ff.,  Lapp.  0. 
ChayApa  (Kphah.  1').  0:50. 
("hedorlaomcr  (K),  100,  114,  117. 
Chemosh  (D),  50.  2:55,  8.')5. 
Chemosh-nadab  (K),  075. 
Cherub  (I'),  127:5, 
Cherubim,  1170»i. 
Chetta-sira  (K),  10.3. 
Chiefs,  30,   1.  app.  2,  .*5lKl>j,,  444  f., 

452,  500. 
Chinnereth  (Lake),  211. 
Chittim  (C),  42,  I.  app.  3,  081. 
("hoaspes,  see  I'knu. 
Choser  (U),  ;541,  827  «. 
(■hristian  Science  illustr.ated,  1100. 
•'Christianity's  Millstone,"  015  «. 
Chronii'les,  see  Kinf^s. 
Clmmohijjy,    87  f.,    107,    llHf..    1(57, 

180,  100,  234,  I.  api>.  0,  (1:54  IT.,  11. 

app.  0. 
Chubu-shkia  (L).  759 ;». 
Chu-en-Aten,  see  Amcnophis  IV. 
Chumbaba  (K),  107. 
('humbani;;ash  (K),  023. 
Cilicia  (L),  132,  201.  200,  220,  24.3, 

204,  311,  7:55,  77:5,  i;570. 
Circumcision,  as  an    adoptive   rite, 

540,  551. 
Cities  ami  city  life,  Si'milic,  :il  ff., 

47;    Hebrew    (Canaanili('),    477, 

482    ff.,    40:5,    4!tO,    408,    501    f., 

5(55. 
Clans,  :500ff.,  444  f.,  418,  451,  .5(M). 
Clientage  in  Israel,  548  ff.,  507. 
Clothing!,  of  the  ])oor,  •'i84. 
Cu'le-Syria  (L),  125,  141. 
Colonies,    Semitic,   41  ff.  ;    and    see 

Pha>nicians,    Aramteans,    As.syr- 

ians. 
Comnmni.sm,  Hebrew,  50,  606. 
Confucianism,  431,  1328. 


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442 


INDEX   I 


Conquered    enemies,    how    treated 

(cf.  Deportation,  Warfare),  1192, 

1232  ff.,  1270  f. 
Copper  in  commerce,  I.  app.  3 ;  cf, 

630. 
Corporate  (tribal,  national)  religion, 

1000,  1022,  1024. 
Court  officials,  206,  621  f.,  690,  592, 

697,  1154. 
Covenant,   Book  of   the,  474,  487, 

502,580,  847  f.,  891  f.,  1100. 
Creation  literature.  885 ff. 
Cretans  (P),  102,  520. 
Croesus  (K),  1380,  1387  f. 
Cuneiform,  see  Writing. 
Cash,  and  Cushites,  146,  346,  655, 

1207,  1228  ?j. 
Cushanrishathaim  (K),  188. 
Cutha  (Kutu,  C),  04,  102,  783. 
Cyaxares  (K),  1379. 
Cyprus  (I),  00,  93h.,  125,  1.33,  145, 

I.  app.  3,  060, 681  f.,738,  II.  app.  4. 
Cyrus  (K),  1, 1378  u. ;  II,  359,  1378, 

1381  ff.,  1408  ff. 

D,  see  Deuteronomist. 

Daban  (W),  247. 

Daghara  (W),  1294. 

Damascus  (C  L),  34  and  n.,  40,  47, 
65, 126,  128, 141,  201  f.,  209,  211  f., 
215,  220,  228  ff.,  235  ff. ,  248,  250  ff., 
257,  202  f.,  270,  273,  302,  310, 
315  f,.  3.33,  335  f.,  376,  380,  516, 
556,  624,  788,  II.  app.  7. 

Dan  (Laish,  C),  109;  (T),  60,  62, 
180,  193. 

Daniel  the  prophet,  1201. 

Dante,  as  seer,  1354. 

Darius  llystaspes  (K),  .159,  1378  ji., 
1417. 

"Dark-haired"  race,  89. 

David  (K),  197  ft,  415,  470,  478,  515, 
518,  5221,  529,  967  ff.  ;  his  poems, 
898,  902,  908  f.;  his  biographies, 
919. 

Dayan-As.shur  (K),  228. 

Dead  Sea,  273. 

Deborah  (prophetess),  188,  479; 
Song  of,  187  f.,  476,  479,  879,  897, 
013,  918. 


Debts  and  debtors  in  Israel,  575  f., 
684  f.,  1322  ;  in  Babylonia,  1323. 

Decalogue,  463  n.,  891  f. 

Deceit  and  fraud  in  Israel  (cf.  Hon- 
esty), 290,  592  ff.,  644,  955  ff,,  970, 
1320. 

Deiokes  (Dayakka,  K),  824;  (G), 
II,  app.  3. 

Deities,  national,  59,  I.  app,  2,  854  ; 
and  morality,  951,  985. 

Delegated  power,  56,  1380. 

Delilah,  see  Samson. 

Delphic  oracle,  1387. 

Delta  of  the  Nile,  347. 

Deluge  literature,  885  ff. 

Deluges,  1296,  1300  n. 

Dependencies:  Semitic,  39 f.,  63,  55, 
01,  083;  Hebrew,  53,  204  ff.,  112, 
215,  202,  208,  474,  540,  645  ;  Baby- 
lonian, 92  f.,  97  ff.,  109,  110,  123, 
178,  1044,  1070 ff.,  1152  ;  Egyptian 
(and  Ethiopian),  134  f.,  143 ff., 
346 f.,  678,  1240f,,  1250 f. ;  Assyr- 
ian, 175,  179ff.,  218  ff.,  242  ff., 
282-316,  326,  331  ff.,  .339,  343 f., 
348  ff. ,  357  ff . ,  382 11 ,  030  ff . ,  650  ff ., 
675,<)88,  733,  741,  7491,  750,  762, 
705,  708.  771,  770,  793 ff.,  806 n., 
8211,  839 ff.,  10.30. 

Deportation,  01,  283,  288 ff.,  362, 
606,  673,  675,  1156 ».,  1232  n., 
1234,  1250,  1268  fl 

Desert  literature,  891  ff. 

Deuteronomic editing,  925  ».,  1356  ff. 

Deuteronomy  I.  app.  4,  502,  58(), 
846  ff. ,  865  ft. ,  943  ff. ,  1018, 1020  ff ., 
13431,1301. 

I)  arbekr  (Amedi,  C),  247, 

Dilmun  (I),  89,  96,  600, 

Diphmiacy,  Oriental,  148  fl,  16.3, 
175,207,213,231,  249,  316,  655, 
679,  8251,  1051,  1379. 

Direction  (te.aching,  the  Law),  457, 
488,  010 ;  Book  of  Direction  (cl 
Deuteronomy),  8461 

Disciples  of  the  prophets,  995  1 ,  998, 
1005, 

Districts,  administrative,  206,  630. 

Divination,  see  Oracles. 

Divine  influence,  1007,  1113  f. 


•ael,  576  f., 
[lia,  1323. 

1  (cf.  Hon- 
055  ff.,  070, 

824;  (G), 

pp.  2,  854 ; 

0. 


i9f.,53,  55, 

>04ff.,  112, 

r)45  ;  Baby- 

1),  no,  123, 

;  Egyptian 

f.,   143  ff., 

)  f. ;  Assyr- 

ff.,   242  ff., 

f!.]0,  343  f., 

ff.,G50ff., 

,  750,  702, 

ff.,  806 ?i., 

J8ff.,    302, 
,,    1232  n., 


K.,1350ff. 

502,  58(), 

8, 1020ff., 


iff.,    16.3, 
316,  055, 

.aw),  457, 
iction  (cf. 

195  f.,  008, 

100,  530. 

3f. 


INDEX   I 


443 


••I 


Doctrines  (cf.  Faith),  1008 f. 
Drunkenness  in  Israel,  506,  641  ff. 
Dungi  (Ba'ukin,  K),  102. 
Dur-il  (C),  80. 
Dur-Sharrukin  (C),  607  ff. 
Dur-Yakin  (C),  064. 
Dushratta  (K),  160. 

E,  see  Elohist. 

Ea  (U),  8.5,  112,  738. 

Earthquakes,  264  f. 

Ebal  (M),  186. 

Ebedmelech  (O),  1228. 

Eclipses  of  the  sun,  259,  265, 1,  app. 
6,  1.370. 

Eden  (L),  73,  112. 

Edessa  (C),  76. 

Edom  and  Edomites,  18,  26,  48,  55, 
132,  152,  204,  200,  215,  235  f.,  248, 
250,  254,  269,  273,  302,  325,  337, 
379,  512,  633,  675,  761,  787,  1157, 
1240  H.,  1243,  1251,  1404  n. 

Egypt  and  Egyptians,  language,  80  ; 
writing,  872  f. ;  trade,  97,  334  ; 
place-names,  132  f. ;  relations  with 
western  Asia  generally,  134  ff., 
151  ff.,  161  ff.,  210,  215,  31.3,  348 
ff.,  367,  440,  653,  766;  relations 
with  Hebrews,  see  Hebrews, 
Judah,  and  N.  Israel;  references 
to  Dynasty  IV,  1.34;  VI,  1.34; 
IX  and  X,  135;  XII,  135,  346; 
XIII-XVII,  130 ff.;  XVIII,  143 
ff.,  161  ff.;  XIX,  103 ff.;  XX, 
166 f.  ;  XXI,  207;  XXII,  207, 
210,  215,  345;  XXIII,  XXIV, 
313,  347  ;  XXV,  313,  .348,  675, 
678;  693 f.,  756,  764 ff.;  XXVI, 
1029  ff.,  1222,  1305. 

Ehud  (J),  188,  904. 

Ekallati  (C),  180. 

Ekbatana  (C),  824,  1382,  1307. 

Ekron  (C),  55,  192,  675,  689  ff.,  695. 

Elah  (K),  212. 

Elain  and  Elamites,  64  f.,  79,  00,  92, 
98,  106  ff.,  113  f.,  120,  178,  247, 
021ff.,660ff.,  672,  736  ff.,  761  f., 
779 ff.,  1163,  1285  «.,  1404. 

Elasah  b.  Shaphan,  1167. 

Elath  (C),  209,  325.  .      , 


Elders,  36,  443,  486,  660,  1092, 
1310  f. 

Elegies,  808,  902,  1237  ff. 

Eli  (J),  195,  414,  4!)0. 

Eliakim  (O),  607, 699  ;  b.  Josiah,  .see 
Jehoiakini. 

Eliezer  (slave),  406. 

Elijah,  the  prophet,  239,  982  f.  ;  bi- 
ography, 935. 

Elisha,  the  prophet,  239-244,  612; 
biography,  935. 

Eli.shama  (()),  1119. 

Ellip  (L),  674. 

Elnathan  b.  Achbor,  1121  n. 

Elohist,  I.  app.  4,  800  f.,  804,  022  f. 

Elohistic  school,  930. 

Elteke  (C),  075,  605,  II.  app.  14. 

ElulsEus,  see  Lule. 

Employments  of  Hebrew.s :  in  I'al- 
e.stine,  483 f.,  507 ff..  1275;  in 
Babylonia,  1274  ft.,  1301  ff. 

Ephod,  506. 

Ephralm,  180  (185),  188  f..  191,  100, 
200,  212,  275,  935;  (L),  275  n.; 
see  Israel,  Northern. 

Ephron  (Ch),  158. 

Epical  poetry,  883,  012. 

Eponym  canon,  210,  294,  I.  app.  6. 

Erech  (C),  88,  101  f.,  104,  107  f., 
1291. 

Eridu  (C),  101,  104,  112,  1291. 

Esagila  (Bit-elu,  temple),  112,  117, 
123,  749,  1060  f.,  1395. 

Esarhaddon  (K),  341,  745 ff.,  II. 
app.  16,  1286. 

Esau  (Ch),  412. 

Ethbaal,  see  Ithobal. 

Ethics  and  ritual,  1017,  1023 ff., 
1094,  1114. 

Ethiopia,  see  Cush. 

Eulieus,  see  Ulai. 

Euphrates  (11),  22,  71  f.,  141,  145, 
219,  222,  225,  228,  237, 320,  730  n., 
1058  f.,  1200  ff. 

"European  Morals,"  616  n. 

Evil-Merodach  (K),  1081,  1309. 

Exile  (cf.  Hebrews  Exiled,  Deporta- 
tion), 200,  301  ff.  ;  Babylonian,  its 
character  and  influence,  1203  ff. 

Exiles  in  Babylonia,  1390. 


r 


444 


INDEX  I 


Hi 


Exodus,  of  Hebrewis  fnnni  Egypt, 
667,  879  ;  the  boot,  925  f. 

Explorations  in  Babylonia,  87,  91, 
95  ;  in  Assyria,  667. 

Ezekiel  (the  prophet),  I.  app.  3, 
814,  83:5,  1081,  1143,  1174  ff., 
1268 f.,  i:J36,  1342ff.,  l.%3f.,  1362, 
1866  f. 

Ezida  (Bit-kenu,  temple),  112,  117, 
106:}. 

Ezion-geber  (C),  209. 

Faith,   Old  Testament,  «07,   1008, 

1132  f.,  1138. 
Families,  396  £f.,  448,  l.'JlOf. 
Fasts,  1116,  1118.  1346  n. 
Fatherhood,    427  ff.  ;     figuratively, 

431  ff. 
Fayum,  the  (L),  347. 
leasts  and  social  fratherinjE*.  490 f., 

604,  576,  862,  871,  'MH.  VM,  1092, 

1246,  1344  ff. 
Federations,  of  trlljes.  47  ff.,  53 f., 

468  ;  of  states.  54,  L  app,  5. 
Fen  countries,  734  n. 
Fenchu  (P),  132. 
Finno-tartaric  language,  see  Sume- 

rians. 
Foresight,  prophetic,  1260,  1410. 
Fortresses    (cf.    Sieges),  2«^»4.    212, 

268,  311,  357,  664,  827, 105**,  139»i. 
Fuller's  Field,  698,  1231. 

Gad  (T),  183,  191,  235;  (piwphet), 

978. 
Gagu  (Gog,  Ch.),  777  n..  814, 
Galilee  (L),  272,  274,  331,  L  app. 

13. 
Gambulu  (P),  339,  661,  779. 
Gamgum  (L),  228,  629. 
Gate  of  Benjamin,  1221,  122«, 
Gath  (C),  152,  192,  197,  243«.,«J2, 

689,  II.  app.  4. 
Gaza  (C),  152,  163,  192,  332,  625. 

675,  689. 
Geba  (C),  194,  196. 
Gebal,  see  Byblos. 
Gedaliah  (G),  1240 ff.,  1249. 
Gemariah  b.    Shaphan,    1119L:  b. 

Ililkiah,  1167. 


Genesis  (book),  925 f.,  952. 

r,'er,  see  Strangers. 

Gerizim  (M),  186. 

Gezer  (C),  152,  207. 

Ghor  (L),  139. 

Giammu  (K),  228. 

Gibeah  (C),  196,  477,  965. 

Gibeon  (C),  185,  1248. 

Gideon  (J),  49,  51,  189,  415,  732  n., 

965,  972. 

Gifts  (cf.  Venality),  149 f.,  594 f. 

Gihon  (W),  697. 

Gilboa  (M),  198,  515. 

Gilead  (L),  129,  138,  141, 186,  190  f., 
196,  212,  233,  243,  262,  272,  274  f., 
.337  (331),  I.  app.  13,  630  n. 

Gileadites,  316. 

Gilgal  (C),  185,  188,  477. 

Gllgamesh  epic,  912  n. 

Gifza  (C),  228. 

Gimirre,  see  Kimmerians. 

Gindibu'u  (Ch),  228  and  n.,  230. 

Glrsashites  (P),  130. 

Gobryas  (Cr),  1386,  1.395  f. 

Gods,  see  Deities,  Polytheism. 

Goel  (vindicator),  426,  486,  604  ji., 

966,  1420. 
Gog.  see  Gagu. 
Gomer,  see  Kimmerians. 
Government,  seeespecially  Hebrews, 

Assyrians. 
Gozan  (L),  343,  .362. 
Greece  and  Phoenicia,  I.  app.  3. 
Greeks  in  Palestine,  632,  II.  app.  4  ; 

in  Cilicia,   735 ;    in   Egypt,   768, 

10,30  ;  in  Asia  Minor,  1389. 
Gubi  (L),  96, 

Gudea  (Xabu,  K),  96,  98,  171, 
Guilds  and  professions,  484,  569  f., 

851  andH.,  871,  934,  1066,  1.306  n, 
Gutium  (L),  92,  109,  171,  780,  1393, 

1395  f. 
Gyges  (Gugu,  K),  768,  773  ff, 

Habakkuk  and  his  prophecy,  1128 

ff.,  1172, 
Hadad  (D),  59  ;  (Ch),  209. 
Iladadezer    (Dadda-idri,    K),    204, 

228, 
Hadad-Rimmon  (C),  I.  app.  5. 


1!1  .' 


,952. 


965. 

>,  415,  732  n., 

19  f.,  694  f. 


1,186,  190  f., 
^,272,  274  f., 
,  630  n. 

7. 


IS. 

il  n.,  230. 

15  f. 
lieism. 
486,  604  «., 


y  Hebrews, 


app.  3. 
II.  app.  4 ; 
gypt,   768, 
389. 

171. 

84,  569  f., 
16,  1.306  n. 
780,  1393, 

ff. 

Bcy,  1128 

V),    204, 
6. 


INDEX   I 


44J 


Hadrach  (Chatarika,  C),  258, 307  n., 
316. 

Hagar,  the  Egyptian,  430,  437  n. 

Ilalys  (11),  1379. 

Ilamath  (C),  125,  141,  201  f.,  226, 
228,  230 f.,  237,  241,  247,  202, 
305 ff.,  316,  331,  I.  app.  9,  624. 

Hanameel  of  Anathoth,  1225. 

Hananiah  (prophet),  1158  f. 

Hannah,  mother  of  Samuel,  430 ; 
her  Song,  908  f. 

Haran,  see  Charran. 

Harpagus  (Cr),  1384  n.,  1386. 

Hauran  (L),  242  f.,  787. 

Hazael  (K  of  Damascus),  236, 
241  ff.  ;  (Arabian),  741,  755. 

Hazo  (P),  755  w. 

Hazor  (C),  152,  .331. 

Heber  (Ch),  550. 

Hebraic  peoples,  26,  284  ;  and  see 
Ammon,  Edom,  Moab. 

Hebrews  :  origin,  20  (18)  ;  racial 
endurance, 4.34  ff.,  903, 1203  ;  char- 
acter and  spirit  (ef.  Semites), 
434  f.,  620,  540  f.,  558  ;  relation  to 
outsiders,  548  ft. ,  550 ;  colonies,  41 ; 
general  political  conditions,  47  ff., 
266,  296,372  ff.,  470  f.,  621  ff.,  557  ; 
government,  see  Rulers,  Chiefs, 
Elders,  Judges,  Princes,  King, 
Court,  Imposts,  Law ;  achieve- 
ments and  mission,  67  ff.,  385  ff., 
1028 ;  chronological  place,  70 ; 
langurge,  153,  392  f.  ;  writing, 
877  ff.;  trade,  206,  212,  231,  2.36, 
624;  culture,  1178  ?i.,  morals  and 
religion,  61,  183,  195,  206,  210, 
239  f.,  271,  296  ff.,  314,  317  ff., 
354 ff.,  373,  377  f.,  .381  f.,  442,  451, 
480 ff.,  489 f.,  493 ff.,  504 ff.,  633, 
574  ff. ,  607  ff. ,  613,640  ff.,  795  f.,  799, 
806,  II.  app.  7,  840  ff.,  927  f., 946  ff., 
962,  1165f.,1182ff.,  1320  ff. ;  tribal 
history,  165  ff.,  430  ff.,  182  ff.,  .309  ff., 
472  ff.,  879  ;  the  single  monarchy, 
196  ff. ;  the  divided  kingdom,  see 
Israel  and  Judah  ;  Hebrews  ex- 
iled :  in  Assyrian  lands,  362  f.  ;  in 
Egypt,  1039  (1264  ff.)  ;  in  Baby- 
lonia   (cf.    Agriculture,   Employ- 


ments, Slaves,  Watercourses),  289 
1081,  1165  ff.,  1170  n.,  1272  ff. 

Hebron  (C),  137,  139,  152,  205. 

Hereditary  office,  500,  609  f. 

Ilermon  (M),  125,  242. 

Herodotus,  1.332  m.,  1412  n. 

Heroic  poetry,  see  Epical. 

Heroic  prose,  918  f. 

Heroic  virtues,  954,  903,  909. 

Heshbon  (C),  183. 

llettites  (Chetta,  Chatte,  T),  41, 1.30, 
1.32,  152, 150  ff.,  179,  201,  200,  219, 
220,  284,  294,  I.  app.  5,  307  f.,  II. 
app.  4. 

Hezekiah  (K),  55,  287,  I.  app.  12, 
035,  637  f.,  675,  088,  092  f.,095  If., 
791  ff.,  II.  app.  11,  800  «.,  1002; 
his  Song,  909. 

HIpI  (Bethelite),  498  n. 

High  places,  .see  Shrines. 

Hilkiah  (priest),  843,  840 f.,  850f. 

Hillah  (C),  1293. 

Hindieh  (canal),  1293. 

Ilinnom  (valley),  855,  1095. 

Hirelings,  541. 

Hirom  (Hiram,  K),  1. 45, 200;  11.310. 

History,  its  scope  and  treatment, 
4  ff. ;  of  the  Semites,  5  ff.  ;  of  the 
Hebrews,  9  ff.,  385  ff.  ;  Hebrew 
conception  of,  4.34  f.,  955, 1350. 

History  and  prophecy,  13  f.,  382 
(380),  723,  1419  f. 

Hivites  (P),  127,  130. 

Honesty,  1320  ff.,  1328. 

Hophni  (J),  490,  689. 

Hophra  (Apries,  K),  1207  f.,  1252, 
12.55,  1305. 

Horses  (cf.  Army),  144,  475,  419  f., 
716. 

Hosea,  the  prophet,  304,  312  ff.,  .320, 
354,  I.  app.  10,  606,  994. 

Hoshea  (K),  287,  332,  343 f.,  348 ff. 

Hospitality,  see  Strangers. 

Host  of  heaven,  850. 

House-father,  405,  408  ff . 

Household,  396,  400,  404  ff. 

Huldah  (prophetess),  851. 

Hunting,  180,  819. 

Hyksos  (P),  ]35ff.,  .346,  436,  437  h. 

Hyrojades  (Cr),  1386. 


]' 


440 


INDEX  I 


i     !i 


N-: 


Ibadid  (P),  ();]0. 

Ibleam  ((   i,  207. 

Ideals  and  inactice  in  religion,  1012, 
1021. 

Idolatry  (cf.  Deities,  Polytheism, 
Religion),  ;52()f..  0:J!)f.,  79i),  8u4, 
800,  980,  1087,  1^33  f . 

Ijon  (C),  ;wi. 

Ilubi'id  (K),  see  Ya'ubi'id. 

Inigur-lJel  (wall),  740,  10r,8,  1001. 

Innnanuel,  .'527  ff.,  I.  app.  12. 

Tinnier  (S),  127:3. 

Inipcriali.sm,  1201,  1.315!.,  1.304. 

Imposts  (taxes,  lines,  tribute,  as.sess- 
ment),  Hebrew,  205  f.,  310,  474, 
623,  1040 ;  Assyrian  and  Baby- 
lonian, 280  f.,  310,  075,  088,  1080  ; 
Egyptian,  1040. 

Imprisonment,  108  f.,  1221,  1224, 
1227,  1415. 

Imlabigash  (K),  782. 

Individualism,  spiritual  (cf.  Relig- 
ion, personal),  1000,  1010,  1014  f., 
1201,  1204  f.,  1340  ff. 

Individuals  as  sufferers,  000. 

Industry  in  Israel  (cf.  Employ- 
ments), 208,  483  f.,  051. 

Interest  (usury)  in  Israel,  552,  570, 
1.322  ;  in  IJabyloniii,  1323. 

lonians,  see  Greeks. 

Iran  and  Iranians  (P),  823,  1374  ff. 

Irchulini  (K),  228. 

Irijah  (O),  1221. 

Irkanati  (K),  228. 

Irocjuois  compared  with  Semites,  20. 

Irrigation,  see  Watercourses. 

Isaac  (Ch),  412,  444,  955,  950. 

Isaiah,  the  prophet,  309,  318  ff., 
320  ff. ,  354  f.,  OOC),  041  ff. ,  049,  052, 
054  ff.,  702,  704,  710  ff.,  728,  995, 
998,  1354. 

Isaiah  the  Second,  1345,  1353  f., 
1405  ff. 

Ischupri  (C),  750. 

Ishbosheth  (Ishba'al.  K),  203. 

Ishmael  b.  Ilagar,  430  ;  b.  Netha- 
niah,  1243,  124511. 

Ishme-Dagan  (K),  Babyl,  104; 
Assyr.,  172. 

Ishtar  (D),  94,  101,  1185  ff. 


Isin  (C),  104,  no. 

Israel  (see  Hebrews),  names,  133, 
228,  232. 

Israel  (northern),  208  fl,  and  see 
Contents;  national  conditions, 
212,  204,  271  ff.,  374  ff.,  527  ff.  ; 
changes  of  dynasty,  2 1 1  f . ,  230  ff . , 
207,  278,  31('),  332  ;  extent,  211  f., 

230,  235  ff.,  243,  202,  272,  352  ;  re- 
lations with  Judah,  see  Judah  ; 
relations  with  Phicnicia,  213,  233, 
239,  204,  377 ;  relations  with 
"Syria"  (Damascus),  231  ff., 
243  ff.,  252,  202  f.,  270,  310,  370, 
380 ;  relations  witii  Assyria,  228, 

231,  240  f.,  250,  253,  207,  314, 
331  f.,  380,  382  ff.  ;  relations  with 
Egypt,  210,  313  f.,  344,  348  ff.; 
outcome  of  its  history,  380  ff. 

Issachar  (T),  212. 
Ithamar  (K),  030. 
Ithobal  (Ethbaal,  K),  of  Tyre,  92, 

213;  of  Sidon,  075. 
Ittai  of  Gath,  550. 
Itti-I5el  (K),  92. 

J,  see  Jehovist. 

.labbok  (R),  183. 

Jabesh  (C  in  Gilead),  191,  190,  575, 

Jacob  (Ch),  412  ff.,  444,  447  n.,  955, 

959. 
Jacob's  "  Blessing,"  905,  913. 
Jacob-el  (C),  309  n. 
Jael  (heroine),  904. 
Jahaz  (C),  183. 
Jair  (J),  191. 
Janoah  (C),  331. 
Jashar  (book),  896,  906,  913. 
Jebusites  (P),  130,  204. 
Jehoahaz  (K).  of  Israel,  245  f.,  252, 

1039  ;  of  Judah,  1039. 
Jehoash  (Joash,  K),  of  Judah,  221, 

243,  254,  317. 
Jehoiachin  (K),  1079  ff.,  1143  ff. 
Jehoiada  (priest),  254. 
Jehoiakim      (K),      1039,      1075  ff., 

1120ff. 
Jehoram  (Joram,  iv),  of  Judah,  221, 

235  f. 
Jehoshaphat  (K),  221,  231,  235. 


INDEX   I 


447 


les,  133, 

and  see 
inUtiniis, 
,  527  ff.  ; 
.,2:](5ff., 
It,  211  f., 
:]r,2;  rc- 
!  Jiulali  ; 
213,  2:]3, 
ms  with 
231  ff., 
316,  370, 
yria,  228, 
207,  31-1, 
ions  with 
,,  348 ff.; 
80  ff. 


Tyre,  92, 


190,  575. 
[7  n.,  956, 

13. 


f5f.,252, 
iah,  221, 
143  ff. 
1075  ff., 
Iah,  221, 
1235. 


•Jehovah  (Yahw6),  in  proper  names, 

1.  app.  9;  his  cliaracter,  l(M)9f., 
1099,  1131,  1176;  his  relation  to 
Israel,  378,  407,  426,  429,  444,  454, 
457,  462,  488  f.,  520,  535,  581  ff., 

002,  700,  720  f.,  894.  900,  911,  922, 
999  f.,  1024,  1099,  1114,  1334  ff.; 
his  false  worship,  .320  f.,  854, 
1005  f.,  1015;  his  omnipresence, 
1337  f. 

Jehovist,  I.  app.  4,  885,  923  ff. 
Jehovistand  Elohist  (J  E),923,  935, 

943  f. 
.  Jephthah  (J),  191,  965  ;  his  lament, 

908. 
Jeremiah,  the  prophet,   813,   1005, 

1007  ff.,  1082  ff.,  1139  ff.,  1215  ff., 

1242,  1252  ff.,  1341,    1349,    1360; 

his    disciples,    1336 ;    the    book, 

1082  n. 
Jericho  (C),  185,  498  n. 
Jeroboam   (K),  I,  200ff.,  1357;  II. 

202  ff.,  300,  519. 
Jerusalem  (C),  40,  57, 126,  128,  139, 

152,    204  ff.,  210,  243,    254,   200, 

276  f.,  318  ff.,  325,  478,  675,  677, 

687  f.,  696  ff.,  7.30,  801,  998,  1039, 

1079,  1178,  1180,  1214  ff.,  1230  ff., 

1238  f.,  1241. 
Jesus  and  the  Old  Testament,  615  ff. 
Jezebel  (Q),  213. 
Jezreel   (Esdraelon,   L),   139,   141, 

198,  203,  243,  250,  272,  331,  304, 

479,  530  n.,  085,  10.34  ;  (C),  2-30.. 
Joab  (Cr),  57,  203,  205,  523. 
Joah  (O),  699. 
Joash  (Jehoash,  K),  of  Israel,  252  f., 

262. 
Job  (the  book),  599  f.,  1353. 
Johanan  (G),  1243,  1246,  1248  f. 
Jonadab  (Ch),  416. 
Jonpthan,  b.  Saul,  190 ff.,  415,  615, 

732  n.,  909,  972  ;  (scribe),  1221. 
Joppa  (C),  152,  076,  695. 
Joram   (Jehorara),  king  of  Israel, 

221,  231,  235  ff. 
Jordan  (II),  126,  129,  141,  1109. 
Joseph  b.  Jacob,  as  a  moral  type, 

960  f.  ;  tribally,  935. 
Joseph-el  (C),  369n. 


Joshua  (Ch),  183 ff.;  (book),  I. 
app.  4. 

Josiah  (K),  807,  838  ff.,  1027, 
1033  ff.,  1069  ff. 

Jotham  (K),  2(>9,  308  f. 

Jothani  b.  Gideon  ;  his  parable,  908, 
910. 

Judah  (T),  180,  188  f.,  196,  200,  905. 

Judah  (L  and  P)  :  national  condi- 
tions, 210,  272  ff.,  290,  379,  527, 
080,  791  ff.,  1027,  1314;  relations 
with  N.  Israel,  210  ff.,  215,  239, 
200  f.,  208,  315  f.,  378;  relations 
with  Edom,  215,  235  f.,  254,  325; 
relations  with  Syria,  215,  231, 
238,  243,  254,  270  ;  relations  with 
Assyria,  254,  300  ff.,  383  f.,  633, 
048,  050  ff.,  075  ff.,  085  ff.,  793  ff., 
II.  app.  6.  ;  relations  with  Bjiby- 
lonia,  079.  837  f.,  1044,  1076  ff., 
lOOOff.,  1113  ff.,  1130ff.,  1148 ff., 
1208  ff.  ;  relations  with  Egypt, 
210,  215,  273,  0.-/2,  054  ff.,  097, 
711,  715  f.,  719  f.,  1076  f.,  1087  f., 
112.3,  1105m.,  1208 f.;  after  the 
kingdom  :  in  Palestine,  1240  ff. ; 
in  Egypt,  1254  ff.  ;  in  Babylonia, 
see  Exiles. 

Judaism,  1251,  1.348. 

Judges  (rulers),  43,  50 f.,  455,  457, 
468,  487,  510,  590  f.,  598. 

Judges,  the,  187  ff.,  504,  920,  963  ff. 

Judges,  book  of,  468  f.,  917  f.,  920, 
1361. 

Justice  in  Israel  (cf.  Law),  457, 
461,  475,  486  ff.,  602,  510,  578  f., 
688 ff.,  859,  1228;  in  Babylonia, 
1322  ff. 

Kadesh  (C),  on  the  Orontes,  145, 
162  f.,  202,  I.  app.  5;  Kadesh- 
Barnea,  183. 

Kaftu  (L),  132. 

Kalach  (Calah,  C),  176,  220,  249, 
283,  341,  067,  820. 

Kallima-SIn  (K),  149. 

Kalparuda  (K),  228. 

Kana'na  (Canaan,  L),  132. 

Karaindash  (K),  176. 

Karbanit  (C),  764. 


M 


»ll  ■ 


J! 
V       > 


LM- 


II 


448 


INDEX  I 


Karduniash  (L.  Babylonia),  121. 

Karkar  (C),228ff.,624. 

Karnak,  see  Thebes. 

Karun,  see  Ulai. 

KasiphiaCS),  1273  n. 

Kasshites  (F),  70, 120  ff.,  141, 174  ff., 

219  n.,  22;j,  074,  1285. 
Katishmalak  (K),  337. 
kebar  (Kabar,   Chebar,  W),  1081, 

1272,  1200,  1200  f.,  1305. 
Kedar  (LP),  787  f. 
Kedesh  (C),  331. 
Keileh  (C),  152. 
Kenites  (P),  186,  416,  493,  550. 
Kenizzites  (P),  186. 
Khorsabad,  see  Dur-Sharruken. 
Kidron  (valley),  607. 
Kinnnerlans  (P,  Gonier,  Giinirre), 

758  f.,  774  f.,  814,  1.384. 
King  .and  kingdom  :   Semitic,  30  f., 

50  ff.,  306  H.;  Hebrew,  50  ff.,  105, 

199,    205  f.,    277  f.,    371  ff.,    468, 

521  ff.,  528  f.,  534  ff.,  587,  11.  app. 

1,  844  n.,  080,  1070  f.;    idealized, 

603 f.;    Assyrian,    171  f.,    182  ff.; 

Babylonian,  98,  108,  120  f. 
Kings  (book),  1357  ff. 
King's  Garden,  1231. 
Kinnereth  (lake),  331. 
Kinship,     306  ff. ;    its    symbolism, 

426,  420,  432  f. 
Kipkip  (C),  767. 
Kir  (L),  336. 

Kirte  (Kirche?),  170,  217  f.,  220. 
Kish  (C),  072. 
Kishon  (R),  479. 
Kissia  (L),  106,  120. 
Kitlala  (C),  228. 
Kommagene,  see  Kummuch. 
Kudur-mabug  (K),  108,  114. 
Kudurnanclnmdi  (K),  107. 
Kudurlagamar,  see  Chedorlaomer. 
Kue  (L.  E.  Cilicia),  228,  230, 1,  app. 
*  6,  620,  666. 
Kummuch  (  L,  Kommagene),    170, 

218,  226,  228,  284,  204,  666. 
Kundashpi  (K),  228. 
Kurigalzu  (K),  I,  140 ;  IT,  175. 
Kushites  (Cushites),  see  Ethiopians. 
Kyaxare8(K),  824  f. 


Laban  (Ch),  412f. 

Labasi-Marduk  (K),  1370. 

Lachish  (C),  152,  688,  090,  603,  II. 
app.  12,  14,  1213. 

Lagaah  (C),  05ff. 

Laish  (Dan,  C),  41. 

Lain  (K),  228. 

Lamoch's  Song,  889. 

Lamentations  (book),  1237  ff. 

Land,  its  acquisition  and  parti- 
tion, 663  ff.,  1344  ;  private  tenure 
(cf.  Property),  680 ff.,  610  m. 

Landmarks,  583. 

Language  and  social  institutions, 
301  ff. 

Larissa  (S),  827n. 

Larsa  (Klasar,  C),  101, 104, 108,  HI. 

Law,  the,  see  Direction. 

Law  and  legislation,  4.")0,  474, 486  ff., 
541ff.,5r.2,  576  f.,  584  n.,  847  f., 

882,  891  f.,  920  ff. 
Law  of  Holiness,  1362. 

Lebanon  (M),  00,  125,  141,  210.  315. 

Leontes,  see  Litany. 

Levi  (T),  035. 

Levirate  custom,  417. 

Levitcs,  as  priests,  604,  863,  1019. 

Leviticus  (book),  024  n. 

Libiiah  (C),  703,  700. 

Libyans  (P),  207,  345. 

Litany  (U),  125,  144. 

Literature,  defined,  883,  800  ;  and 
writing,  882,  001. 

Literature,  Hebrew  :  conditions  and 
occasions,  866 ff.,  801  ff.,  808 ff., 
014 ff.,  030 ff.,  1350 ff.,  1405;  its 
spirit  and  style,  11  ff.,  253,  435, 
446,  440  n.,  450,  607,  728  f.,  744  «., 
868,  800,  803,  {H)4,  013,  027  f.,  034, 
1080  u.,  1086  n.,  1134, 1145  f.,  1175, 
1178)1,  1212,  1238,  1351,  l;]56, 
1402,  1405  ff.,  1415  ji.;  contents, 
442  ff.,  883  ff.,  13.35  ff.,  1401  ff.  ; 
form,  887  f.,  018,  038,  1117,  1237, 
1352  f.  ;  non-Hebraic  elements, 
880  f.,   0.32  ;  periods  and  epochs, 

883,  800  ff.,  907,  912,  937  f.,  1350» 
1400  f. 

Local  government,  Hebrew,  52. 
"  Lost  Tribes,"  303. 


INDEX    I 


440 


nstltulions, 


Lull  (Elulaeus,  K),  (i7r>,  (181  f. 
Lybians  (T),  210,  :{43,  770,  1080. 
Lycians  (P),  1380. 
Ly.lia    (L),    157,    773  ff.,     1379  f., 
1387  ff. 

Maacha  (L),  204. 

Machalliba  (C),  075, 

Madai,  sue  Meiles. 

Magtliel  (C),  152. 

Magic  (cf.  Oracles),  044. 

Magog  (LP),  814. 

Makan  (Magan,  L),  01,  00. 

Makarfi  (Q),  145. 

Maledictions,    1104  ff.,    1112,    1159, 

IKiOf.,  12.')7. 
Malik  and  malk  ("  counselloi- ''  and 

"king"),  m,  I.  app.  2. 
Manasseh  (T),  183,  180,   10(S,  212. 

275;  (K),  701,  780,  790,  798  ff., 

1003  ff..  1122  jj. 
Manda  (Scythian),  758  n. 
Mannai  (PL),  028,  758,  777,  1384, 

1403. 
Mansuati  (C),  250. 
Mar(n)duk,  see  Merodach. 
Marduk-niidin-ache  (K),  180. 
Marduk-zakir-shum  (K),  071. 
Mari  (K,  Bcnhadad  III),  251  f. 
Marratini  (L),  1403  n. 
Marriage,  417  ff.,  420  f.,  940,  1332. 
Marsiman  (P),  630. 
Mash  (L),  788. 
Mashga  (C),  228. 
Masius  (M),  71,  217  f.,  220. 
Matinu-ba'al  (K),  228. 
Mazares  (Cr),  1380. 
Media   and    Medes    (Madai),    224, 

247  f.,  2:>8,  294,   311,  302  f.,  027, 

629,    074,    758,     700,     777,    812, 

823  ff.,  lOol,  1374,  1370,  1401. 
Mediterranean  Sea,  90  f.,  180.  219  ; 

Assyrian  name,  179  f.  ;  coast  land. 

71,  331  ;  coast  land  peoples,  100. 
Medo-Persian  empire,  1386  ff.,  1413. 
Megiddo   (C),   141,    145,   152,    103, 

210  w.,  10.34. 
Melchizedek  (K),  37. 
Melikoff  (name),  I.  app.  2. 
Melkart(D),  59. 


!.-,4, 
II. 


Melucha  (D),  90,  075,  078,  755  ?(., 

780. 
Memphis  (C),  313,   347,   050,  750, 

707,  1030. 
Menahem  (K),   Hebrew,  207,   300, 

310,  010  ;  Phoenician,  (u'k 
Mentu  (D),  144. 
Merneptah  (K),  10(5  f.,  879. 
Merodach  (Marndiik,  Marduk,  D), 

85,  112,  117,  123,  748  f.,  818,  1054, 

1383,  1393  ff.,  1398. 
Merodach-baladan    (K),    340,    021, 

()37,  600  ff.,  071  f.,  079  ;  his  sons, 

751. 
Mesha  (K),  212,  221,  235. 
Meshech,  see  Mnshke. 
Mesopotamia  (L),   18,   41,    71.  75, 

132,  137,  141,   145  f.,  l.-,4f.,   173, 

175  f.,  178,  181,  188.  217  f. 
Messianic  ideal,  003  f..  91(!,  IKil. 
.Metenna  (K).  11.  app.  10. 
Micah  (the  prophet),  319,  321, 

350,  000,  044  f.,   798  «.,    80(», 

app.  8,  998.  1092. 
Micaiah  b.  Gamariah,  1119. 
Mice,  705,  707,  II.  app.  13. 
Michmash  (C),  190,  087. 
Midianites  (P).  50,  183,  189. 
Mikado,  as  illustration,  431. 
Milcom  (D),  59,  855  ;  cf.  .Molech. 
Militarism  (cf.  Warfare),  318,  013, 

889,  1201,  1420. 
Militene  (Milid,C),  228,  629. 
Milton  and  Isaiah,  1400. 
Minajans  (P),  878  h. 
Minni  (P),  see  Mannai. 
Miriam  and  her  Song,  449  ».,  890, 

913. 
Mita  (K).  627. 

Mitfini  (L),  132,  ir,0,  154  f.,  102. 
Mitinti  (Metinti,    K),    of  Askalon, 

332  ;  of  Ashdod,  075. 
"Mixed     multitude"     (IJedawin), 

453.  550. 
Mizpah  (C),  1240,  1242  ff. 
Moab  and  Moabites,  18,  20,  48,  50, 

138,  183,  188,  I'.M),  204,  209,  215, 

231,   233,    235,    203,    208  f.,    273, 

337,  550  n.,  633,  675,  701,  894  f., 

972,  1157,  1240,  1243,  1251. 


1*i 


2o 


!H|i 


m 


450 


INDEX  I 


Moliamincd  (cf.  Islam),  .^O?  n.,  508, 
1)05,  l;{28. 

Moli'ch  (Moloch,  D),  I.  app.  2,  855, 
lOOfl. 

Monarchy,  see  King. 

Monotheism  (cf.  Jehovah,  Religion), 
1338. 

Monuments,  sec  especially  As- 
syrians, Babylonians. 

Moon-worship,  850. 

Morality:  its  evolution,  011ft.,  050, 
980  ff.;  Christian  and  Hebrew, 
015  ff. ;  its  criteria  and  standards, 
948 ff.,  904,  1258 ff.;  conditions 
and  basis,  950,  958,  902,  984  ff., 
1009  f.,  1010. 

Moresheth-Gath  (C),  356. 

Moschi,  see  Muslike. 

Moses,  the  lawgiver,  183,  449  ff.  ;  bis 
Blessing,  935. 

Motherhood,  430. 

Mugheir  (Ur,  S),  100. 

Musa  ibn  Nosair  (Ch),  568  n. 

Mushke  (Meshech,  Moschi,  LP), 
179,  217,  027  ff.,  600. 

Musri  (L),  228,  230,  I.  app.  5  ;  cf. 
437  n. 

Mut-Adda  (Cr),  152. 

Mutilation  of  the  dead,  285  n. 

Myth  making,  1184ff. 

Nabataeans  (P),  765  ji. 

Nabonassar  (K),  293. 

Nabonidus  (K),  87,  1371  f.,  1392  ff., 

1401. 
Nabopalassar    (K),    822  f.,    825  f., 

1042,  1370  ». 
Nabopaliddin  (K),  219 n. 
Naboth  of  Jezreel,  583,  000,  981  f. 
Nabii-bel-shumi  (Ch),  784. 
Nadab  (K),  211. 
Nagitu  (C),  734,  737  f. 
Naharina  (Mesopotamia),  132,  146, 

150. 
Nahr  el  Kelb,  1213  n. 
Nahum,  the  prophet,  831  ff.,   1129, 

1138. 
Nairi  (L),  179,  216. 
Naming,  in  Israel,  1040  «.,  1411  n. 
Namri  (Namar,  L),  268. 


Nana  (Islitar,  D),  101,  107. 

Napata  (C).  .">47. 

Naphtali  (TL),  272,  275,  331,  I. 
ai)p.  13,  479. 

Narain-Sin  (K),  87  ff. 

Nathan  (prophet),  his  parable,  910, 
977  f. 

National  literature,  915  f. 

Nationalism,  Hebrew  (cf.  Patriot- 
ism), 470  f.,  515,  907  f. 

Nationality,  Semitic,  40ff.,  1315f.  ; 
and  r(ligi(m,  01. 

Natnu  (Ch),  787  f. 

Naturalization,  see  Adoption. 

Nature-worship,  321,  1184  ff. 

Navigation,  Phcenician,  00  ;  Babylo- 
nian, 1305  n. 

Nebaioth  (Nabatreans,  LP),  787  f. 

Nebo  (D),  57,  59,  112,  117,  249,  L 
app.  7,  818.  820,  1054,  1050,  1003, 
1392,  1394  ;  (M),  188  ;  (C),  235. 

Neboshazban  (Cr),  1233 «. 

Nebuchadrezzar  (K)  :  I,  178,  1280; 
II,  42,  407,  825,  1042,  1052  ff., 
1075ff.,  1115,  1137,  1107,  1171, 
1210,  1213,  1231,  1235.  1241,  1273, 
1277,  1280,  1290  f.,  1337,  1304  ff., 
1379,  1403,  1414. 

Nebuzaradau  (Cr),  1232,  1240, 
1242. 

Necho  (K)  :  I,  760,  768,  1029 ;  II, 
827,  1031  ff.,  1043,  1207. 

Negeb  (L),  273. 

Nemitti-Bel  (rampart),  749,  1053. 

Nergal  (D),  85,  94,  228,  818. 

Nergal-.shar-usur  :  (1)  b.  Sinacherib, 
744  ;  (2)  see  Neriglissar. 

Nergal-ushezib  (K),  739. 

Neriglissar  (K),  1233  n.,  1370. 

Nestorians,  30,  I.  app.  2. 

New  Testament  and  Old,  615  ff. 

New  Year's  festival,  1392,  1394. 

Nile  valley,  346  f. 

Nimrud,  see  Kalach. 

Nina  (Ishtar,  D),  171  f. 

Nineveh  (C),  39f.,  74,  141,  171  f., 
175,  247,  283,  341,  741  ff.,  750, 
702,815,  824  ff. 

Ninus  (K),  249. 

Niphates  (M),  71. 


u,    3.31,    I. 

rable,  010, 

f.   Patriot- 
5.,  1315 f.  ; 


ion. 

Iff. 

[} ;  Babylo- 

-),787f. 
17,  249,  I. 
1050,  1003, 
(C),235. 
i. 

178,  1280; 
2,  1052  ff., 
107,  1171, 
1241,  1273, 
7,  1304  ff., 

32,     1240, 

1029;  II, 


19,  1053. 

Il8. 

inacherib, 


370. 

il5ff. 
1394. 


|l,  171  f., 

ff.,   750, 


INDEX   I 


451 


Nippur  (N'uffar.  C),  91,  94,  101, 
104  f.,  108,  110,  112,  293,  1081, 
1284  ff. 

Nisibis  (C),  75,  141,  217. 

Nismcli,  .see  Nusku. 

Nobles,  .see  Huler.s. 

Nomads  and  nomadic  life  (cf.  Tri- 
balism), .50,  400 ff.,  410,  424 f., 
4.38 ff.,  4(i5ff.,  1141  f.,  1384. 

Noph  (C),  .see  Memphis. 

Nubia,  .see  Cu.sh. 

Numbers  in  Old  Te.stament,  I.  app. 
6,  443  H.,  400,  II.  app.  0,  13; 
(book),  925  f. 

Nur-Ramnian  (K),  108. 

Nusku  (I)),  744,  818. 

Obadiah  (book),  1404  ji. 
Obelisks  (E^'yptian),  707  n.,  1255  ?i. 
Occupations,  .see  Employments. 
Old    Testament,   in   our  evolution, 

611  ff.  ;  and  New,  014  ff. 
Omri  (K),  212,  239. 
Omri-land    (N.     Israel),    see     Bit- 

Chumri. 
On  (Heliopolis,  C),  057,  767,  1255  «. 
Onesinms  (.slave),  400. 
Opis  (C),  1395  f. 
Oracles,  488,  702  (1071),  1073,  1210, 

1215,  1220,  125.3,  1387. 
Oratorical  literature,  938  ff. 
Oratory,  Hebrew,  940. 
Ormuzd,  see  Ahuramazda. 
Orontes   (R),    125,    141,    101,    282, 

220. 
0.sorkon  II  (K),  215. 
Otlmiel  (J),  188,  650. 

P,  see  Priestly  narrative. 
Padan-Aram  (L),  75,  I.  app.  9. 
PadI  (K),  075,  092,  095,   II.    app. 

14. 
Pakrura  (G),  760. 
Palestine    (collectively),   17,   54  f., 

90,    125  ff.,   1.32  f.,  135 ff.,  151  ff., 

103ff.,  204,  291,  780. 
Pallakopas  (W),  100,  129.3. 
Panics  explained,  732  n. 
Parentage,  430. 
Parsua  (L),  224. 


Parties  and  parti.sansliip  in  Israel, 
598  ff.,  (i07,  98.3,  987  f.,  991, 
109311.,  1149,  1157  ff. 

Pa.sebchanu(K),  207. 

l'a.shliur  (b.  Immer),  1111;  (b. 
Midchiab),  1215. 

Pastoral  life  (cf.  Xomadsj,  470,  479. 

I'asture-grounds,  38,  505,  1304. 

Patin,  see  Chattin. 

I'atriti  pnti'stns,  408  ff. 

Patriarclis  of  Israel,  137  ;  in  history, 
442  ff. ;  their  morality,  948  ff.,  9(U. 

Patriotism:  Semitic,  01;  Hebrew, 
470  f.,  479,  WK),  915,  907,  1024, 
1123,  ll.')0,  1223;  prophetic,  723, 
1113f.,  1258  ff.,  1409. 

I'ekah  (K),  310  (325),  332, 1.  app.l3. 

Pekahiah  (K),  310. 

Pekod  (P),  339,  1403  n. 

Pelusiuni  (C),  705,  709. 

Penuel  (Peniel,  C),  210. 

Pepi  (K),  1.34. 

Perizzites  (P),  127,  1.30. 

Persia  (Persis,  L),  1374,  1378. 

Persian  Gulf,  extent,  71 ;  naviga- 
tion, 737  f. 

Persians  (cf.  Iranians),  political 
tendencies,  50. 

Pesept  (L),  700. 

Pestilence,  259,  204  f.,  704,  707,  709, 
II.  app.  13. 

Pethor  (Pitru,  C),  228. 

Petra  (C),  254. 

Pharisaism,  610  f. 

Philemon  (slave-owner),  400. 

Philistian  plain  (Palastu),  139,  141, 
2.J0,  045,  084. 

Philistines  and  their  cities,  50,  54, 
104,  100,  192  ff.,  190  ff.,  200, 
203 ff.,  211,  24.3,  248,  204,  208, 
273,  302,  315.  325,  332,  371,  479, 
491  f.,  512,  515,  031  f.,  051,  675, 
077,  084,  090  ff.,  701,  1240. 

Phinehas  (,I),  490,  589. 

Phoenicians,  classification,  18 ; 
names,  1.32  f.  ;  achievements,  00, 
154,  083;  colonies  and  govern- 
ment, 42  ff.,  I.  app.  3,  772  ;  trade 
and  navigation,  42  ff.,  (97),  128, 
184,  206   (209),  230,   I.   app.    3, 


402 


INDEX   I 


i^.i 

^B^Hfl 

V 

^1^  ' 

* 

'!•■  :' 

i;| :  : 

737  f.,  1(»;J1,  i:i(J7  ;  religion  and 
deities,  137,  'J  13  ;  events  in  his- 
tory, 120,  141  f.,  IW,  1«4,  1(5(1, 
180,  184,  211),  23(»,  311,  315,  07r), 
080 ff.,  753,  7(11,  772 f.,  821.  See 
especially  Sidon,  Tyre. 

Phraortes  (K),  824. 

rianchi  (K),  347. 

Pissah  (M),  1244. 

risiris  (K),  (128. 

Planet  worship,  1001,  1003. 

Polyandry,  417  f. 

Polygamy,  200,  424,  440. 

Polytheism,  national,  50!. 

Poverty  in  I.srael :  its  occasions,  541, 
572,  575  ;  its  consequences.  57.'1  ff., 
001  ;  the  "  poor  "  as  a  class,  508  ff. 

Preaching,  .see  I'rophesying. 

Prediction  (of.  Foresight),  1147, 
l;!07,  1410  f.,  1418  f. 

Priest-kings,  57,  08,  172. 

Priestly  narrative,  885 ff.,  801  f., 
02.3  ff. 

Priests  and  priesthood  in  Israel,  488, 
504  f.,  570,  588  f.,  042  f.,  074, 
1013  ff.,  1101,  1170,  1344  f.,  i;i51  ; 
a-s  counsellors,  488  f.,  1015;  their 
achievements,  1017  f.;  Babylo- 
nian, 330,  ()(!(),  1287  f.,  1302. 

Primogeniture,  420. 

Princes  (rulers),  455,  470 ».,  487, 
,531,  502,  1002,  1221,  1312. 

Professional  prophets,  1003,  1103  ff. 

Property  (cf.  Land),  its  influence 
in  society  and  politics,  425,  503. 

Prophesying,  037  ff. 

I'rophctic  histories,  02:Jf.,  0.34. 

Prophets  and  Prophecy,  105,  214, 
244,  205 ff.,  313  IT.,  318 ff.,  382, 
402,  488,  532,  540,  670,  580  h., 
COO,  000,  010,  7->5,  820.  851,  030  tf.. 
983,  003,  1005  ff.,  1133,  1145  f., 
1172,  1200.  1258  ff.,  1330  ff.,  1345, 
1400  ff.,  1418  ff. 

Proverbs  (book),  000,  010;  their 
limitations,  000  ff. 

Psalms,  by  David  (?)  000  ;  motives 
of  composition,  005  f. ;  partisan, 
508  ff.;  "vindictive,"'  COO  n., 
1108  ?i.;  of  exile,  1  J0.5. 


rsammetichus,   (K)    I,   708,   774  f., 

812,  1020;    II,  1207. 
Ptah  (D),  705. 
rteria  (C),  150,  1.387. 
Ptolemy,  canon  of,  203,  I.  app.  6. 
l'iulu'il'(K),  075. 
Prd,  I'fdu,  see  Tiglathpileser  III. 
l»unt  (!'),  145,  1080  H. 
I'ut  (1").  770,  1080. 
Pythia,  the,  851  «. 

Queen  of  Heaven,  850,  1004,  1250. 
Queens,  see  Women. 

Uabbath-Annnon  (C),  204. 

Uabmag  (title),  1233  h. 

Rabsaris  (title).  000,  12.33  n. 

Uabshakeh  (title),  200,  000 ff.,  II. 
app.  14. 

Rachel  hat  Laban,  413. 

Ramah  (C),  477,  1242. 

Ramman  (cf.  Rimmon,  D),  172, 
228. 

Raniman-nadin-ache  (K),  177. 

Rannniln-nirari  (K),  I,  175;  II,  210; 
III,  248 ff.,  282,  I.  app.  7. 

Ramoth  (C),  212,  215,  231,  2.35  f. 

Ramses  (K),  II,  103,  105  ;  III,  100  f., 
207. 

Raphia  {liapiehu,  licfCi,  C),  025, 
750. 

Reading,  public,  1117. 

Rebekah  hctt  IJethuel,  412. 

Rechabites  (T),  410,  1141  f. 

Red  Sea  traffic,  07,  200,  209,  215, 
2.30,  254,  204,  200. 

Reforms  in  Israel.  8.J2  ff.,  1010 ff. 

Regnal  year,  II.  app.  0. 

Reiiob  (L),  204. 

Rehoboam  (K),  208,  210. 

Religion  among  the  Semites  :  its  po- 
litical influence,  5811,  00,  200, 
551,  030,  774  «.,  II.  app.  7,  841  ; 
syncretism,  (50,  200,  405,  855, 
1155  ;  religion  and  kinship,  307, 
402  f.  ;  bound  to  the  soil,  01,  280  f., 
405,  551,  000,  1024  ;  its  scope  and 
motive,  405,  407  ff.,  504  ft'.,  001, 
911,  085  ;  Hebrew  religion  distinc- 
tive, 02,  613  ;  personal  religion  iu 


INDEX   I 


453 


its  po- 

|1)!>,    20!t, 

J,  841; 

&5,    8o5, 

lip,  391, 

1,28!)  f., 

[ope  and 

ft.,   GO], 

distinc- 

ii";iou  iu 


Israel,  007  ff.,  080,  JIS")  ff.,  1001)  ff., 

1340,   1340;   ill  a  Gentile,    10.')4. 

For  the  types,  Hce  the  several  divi- 
sions of  the  Semitic  nice. 
Representative  government,  GO  (20, 

37). 
Reshep  (D),  137. 
Ketenu  (L,  Syria),  132,  145. 
Reuben  (!'),  183,  204,  035. 
llezon  (K),  I,  200  ;  II,  310,  333,  335. 
Rhabduniancy,  12101". 
Uhapsodists,  871,  804. 
Rhodes  (I),  I,  app.  3. 
Rhodes,  (N'cil,  as  au  historical  type, 

055,  1411  n. 
Rib-addi  (G),  152. 
Riblah  (C),  1038,  1213. 
Richi's  and  tlie  iniblic  weal,  571  ff.  ; 

the  "riL'h"  as  a  class,  08 ff.;  cf. 

018. 
Riinmon  (Uainman,  D),  of  Dania.s- 

cus,  50  ;  of  Aleppo,  228. 
Rizpah  hat  Aiah,  072. 
Roads,  great,  202. 
Roman    social     institutions    cited, 

408  ff.,  413  f.,  421,  424  f.,  427. 
Rulers  (cf.  Princes,  Judges,  Chiefs, 

Elders),    530   ff.,    560,    500,    587, 

042  f.,  074. 
Ruth  (book),  470,  650  n. 

Saba'a  (P,  North  Saba'ans),  334, 030. 

Sabako  (K),  347,  I.  app.  14,  025. 
705. 

Sabataka  (K),  I.  app.  14,  025,  030, 
032,  II.  app.  4. 

Sabbath,  1340  f. 

Sachi  (L),  707. 

Sacrifice  and  sacrifices,  738,  1000  f., 
1014. 

Sacrificers,  480,  505,  535,  803,  1014. 

Sals  (C),  700,  1030. 

Salamanu  (K  ;  cf.  Shalman),  337. 

Samaria  (C),  40,  128,  212,  254, 
276  f.,  280,  343,  340  ff.,  I.  app. 
10,  1247  ;  (L)  see  Israel  North- 
ern ;  Assyrian  province,  024  f., 
053,  085,  700. 

Saingar-Nebo  (Cr),  1233  n. 

Samsi  (Q),  334,  030. 


Sanisiruna  (C),  075. 

Samson  (.1),  103,  U05  ;  his  biogra< 
phy,  (H)8,  017  f. 

Samsu-iluna  (K),  118, 

Samuel  (J),  105  f.,  430,  505,  076 f.  ; 
(book),  008  f.,  035,  1301. 

Sanibu  (K),  3.37. 

Sapalel  (K),  10.3. 

Sardanapalus,  see  A.sshurbaiiipal. 

Sardis  (C),  775,  1387  ff. 

Sarepta  (C),  675. 

Sargon  (K):  I,  80  ff.,  112  m.,  007  ; 
II,  42,  287,  ,358  ff.,  I.  app.  10, 
16,  10,  (i20ff.,  053  ff.,  (iOOff.,  722, 
II.  app.  2,  4,  6. 

Sar.sechim  (title),  12.33  n. 

Satarna  (K).  150. 

Saul  (K),  100  ff..  416,  517,  .521  f., 
525,  075  I  his  biography,  010,  035. 

Scythians  (!'),  777  ?i.,  810  ff.,  821, 
824,  l;!83f.,  1401. 

Scythopolis  (C),  812  m. 

Seers  (cf.  Prophets),  037. 

Seir  (M),  100. 

Semiramis  (Q),  240,  I.  app.  7. 

Semites  (collectively),  characteris- 
tics, 6f.,  1140;  course  of  history, 
Off.,  171,  174,  1045;  territory, 
17  ff.  ;  classification,  18  f.  ;  dis- 
tribution, 2011,  70 ff.,  105  H.,  223; 
languages,  I.  app.  1  ;  religiou 
and  deities.  57  ff.,  137,  104,  283, 
280 f.  ;  political  tendeiicie.s,  28 ff., 
280,  501,  007  H.,  778,  1414 f.  See 
the  several  divisions  of  the  race. 

Senir  (Sanir,  M),  242. 

Senkereh  (Lar.sa,  C),  101. 

Sepharvaim  (C),  04,  340. 

Seraiah  b.  Neriah,  1172. 

Seraphim,  1170  n. 

Serpent,  Brazen,  854. 

Servant  of  Jehovah,  1202,  1420. 

Servants  and  servitude,  cf.  Slaves 
and  hirelings. 

Sesostris,  see  Ramses  II. 

Sethon  (Seti,  K),  705. 

Seti  I  (K),  103. 

Seve  (K),  343.  349,  I.  app.  14,  025. 

Sexual  morality,  213,  .321  f.,  50({, 
857,  050  f.,  006,  071, 1180  f.,  1330, 


m 


ill  r   I 

ITA'.' ; 


if 


464 


INDEX  I 


1332 ;    in   law  and    prescription, 

057,  1190,  1330  ff. 
Shabara'in  (C),  349. 
Shagur  (I'ethor,  C),  228. 
Shalluin  (K),  267. 
Sliallum  b.  Josiah,  see  Jeboahaz. 
Shalman  (K),  314,  I.  app.  8,  681. 
Shalnianeser  (K),  I,  175 ;  II,  221  ff., 

237  f.,   240  ff.,   .341  ;    III,   256  f.; 

IV,  .342  ff.,  .349  ;  Fort,  228. 
Shamash  (Shanisu,  I)),  94. 
Shaniash-shum-ukin  (K),  763,  778, 

780  ff.,  II.  app.  17. 
Shamgar  (J),  479. 
Shamshi-Iiamman  (K)  :  I,  172  ;  IV, 

247. 
Shangar  (K),228. 
Shaphan  (O),  843,  846,  850. 
Shapiya  (C),  340. 
•'  Sharezer,"  744  w. 
Sharlfidari   (K),   of  Askalon,   675, 

091  ;  of  Pelusium,  766. 
Sharuhen  (C),  144. 
Shasu    (Bedawin),     132,     135    ff., 

107, 
Shatt-el-Hai  (R),  95,  100. 
Shatt-en-^'il    (K),  94,   100  f.,  1274, 

1290,  1299  f. 
Sheba  (L),  145. 
Shebna  (O),  697,  699. 
Shechem  (C),  49,  189,  208,  210,  477, 

503??.,  1247. 
Shemaiah  (exile),  1169 f. 
Siiepherd  princes,  see  Hyksos. 
Sheshbazzar  (prince),  1312. 
Shian  (L),  228. 
Shiloh  (C),  180, 194,  490,  504,  1091, 

1093,  1247. 
Shinar  (Simmer,  L),  109 ff. 
Shishak  (Sheslionk,  K),   207,   210, 

345. 
Shrines  (cf.  Temple),  490,  490,  504, 

800,  994,  1000  f.,  1244,  1247. 
Simmer  (see   Sumerians),    Shumer 

and  Akkad,   102,   104,   108,   110, 

175,  223,  293,  778  ji.,  1393. 
Shushan,  see  Siisa. 
Shuzub  (K),  733,  739. 
Sibraim  (C),  349. 
Sib'u  (K),  see  Seve. 


Sidon  (C),  34,  .39,  43 f.,  126,   152,. 

243,   248,  I.  app.  3,   675,  681  f., 

753,  772,  1157,  1213  n.,  1367. 
Sieges   (cf.    Fortresses),   2.36,    251, 

357,  664,  675,  681,  698,  783, 824  ff.,. 

831  f.,   II.  app.   14,   1039  (1178), 

1214  ff.,  1230 f.,  1.388. 
Sihon  (K),  18.3. 
Sil-bel  (K),  675. 
Siloam  (Siloah,   brook  and  pool), 

329  (cf.  32(5),  698  (7.30),  731  n. 
Silver  in  commerce,  I.  app.  3 ;  cf. 

630. 
Simeon  (T),  180. 
Simirra  (C),  024. 
Sin  (D),  94,  100,  104,  II.  app.  4. 
Sin  (political),  290,  675,  II.  app.  11. 
Sinacherib  (K),  42,  55,  281  n.,  035,, 

637,  009ff.,  718,  722  f.,  732  ff.,  II. 

app.  9-14. 
Sinai  (M),  183,  450. 
Sinaitic  peninsula,  134,  450,  755  ;  cf.. 

North  Arabia. 
SIn-iddin  (K),  108  (104). 
Sinjirli   inscriptions,   I.   app.  9,   I. 

app.  10. 
Sin-shar-ishkun  (K),  820. 
Sippar  (C),  80 ff.,  94,  293,  739,  752, 

783,  1395  f. 
Slavery,  its  occasions,  475,  539  ff.,. 

5841;   its   effects,    644 ff.,    1278; 

its  morality,  949  ;  its  symbolism,. 

407. 
Slaves   in   Israel,    social  relations, 

405  ff.,  507  ff.,  540,  542,  544,  551  ;. 

employments,  507  ff.,  507   (1228 

n.)  ;  emancipated,  1218  ;  their  lot 

ameliorated,    542  ff.  ;    their   legal 

protection,  542  f.  ;  fugitive,   543, 

545  ;    in    literature,    540 ;     their 

unique    position,    542  ff.  ;    P'gyi)- 

tian,  346,  430,  440;  Babylonian, 

749,  1279 ff.,  1320  ;  Tyrian,  547. 
Slave-trade,  46,  204,  400,  539. 
Smintheus  (D),  II.  app.  13. 
Snefru  (K),  134. 
So  (K),  see  Seve. 
"  Social  Evolution,"  014  n. 
Social    changes    in    Israel,    662ff.» 

569 ff.,  578,991,1153. 


INDEX   I 


465. 


Social  questions  in  Israel,  569  ff.  ; 
their  importance,  574,  578,  607. 

Society,  Hebrew,  its  constitution, 
see  Family,  Household,  Clans, 
Tribes,  Slaves,  Strangers,  Clien- 
tage, and  cf.  Hebrews,  govern- 
ment, religion  and  morals. 

Sociological  literature,  Hebrew, 
698  ff. 

Sodom  (C),  109. 

Solomon  (K),  205  ff.,  519,  524  ff., 
971,  1357  ;  his  poems,  904,  910  ; 
his  "Acts,"  1858. 

Son  (member  of  guild),  570, 

Sorcery,  858. 

Sparta  (C),  i;)87. 

Spelling,  876. 

Spirituality,  see  Religion,  personal. 

Stone-pillars,  854. 

Strangers  (sojourners,  guests,  cli- 
ents), their  naturalization,  548  ; 
factors  of  Israel,  550 ff.,  507;  in 
literature,  552  ff. 

Subject  states,  see  Dependencies. 

Suchu  (L),  219. 

Suez  Canal,  1031. 

Sunierians  (Sluuner),  80 ff.,  95 f. 

Sun-chariots,  850. 

Sun-worship,  321,  856  (1186).  1191. 

Superstitions,  732,  858,  1183. 

Supnat  (R),  215,  218. 

Surety  in  Israel,  584,  596. 

Suru  (C),  218. 

Susa  (Shushan,  C),  106  f.,  785, 
799. 

Susiana  (L),  106,  120. 

Suzerainty,  see  Dependencies. 

Sybil,  the,  851  n. 

Symbolical  prophetic  actions,  058, 
1158f.,  1172, 1178 ff.,  1197  (1243), 
1255. 

Synagogue,  1348, 

Syria  and  Syrians  (collectively) , 
17  f.,  90,  125,  1,32 f.,  1.35ff.,  lOOff., 
201  f.,  204,  230,  250,  257,  291  ; 
Northern  Syrians,  123, 152,  157  ff., 
219,  226,  243,  247,  294,  300, 
311,  316,  624,  680;  Middle  and 
Southern  Syrians,  226,  307,  311, 
315,  624, 


Tabal  (Tibarene,  LP),  217,  338,. 
628,  773. 

Tabel,  of  Dama.scu.s.  .320. 

Tab-Riinmon  (K),  211. 

Tabua  (Q),  755. 

Tadmor  (Palmyra,  C),  141. 

Tahpanhes  (C),  1083,  1254  f. 

Talent,  II.  app.  11. 

Tanmiarilu  (K),  782,  784. 

Tammuz  (D),  1184ff. 

Tamud  (P),'630. 

Tanis,  see  Zoan. 

Tarshish  (C),  128. 

Tarsus  (Tarzi,  C),  243  n.,  7.35. 

Tartan  (title),  I.  app.  14,  099. 

Taurus  (M),  71. 

Taxation,  see  Imposts. 

Teispes  (K),  1378. 

Tekoa,  the  woman  of,  398  n. 

Tel-abub  (S),  1290,  1305. 

Tel-harisha  (S),  1273. 

Tel  Ibrahim  (S),  94. 

Telloh  (S),  91,  95,  1291. 

Tel-melach  (S),  1273. 

Tenia  (P),  334. 

Tenia  (C),  1371,  1.392. 

Temple  in  Jerusalem,  206,  276  f.,. 
580,  601,  731,  796,  840 «.,  904, 
908,  1118  H.,  1183  f.,  1233;  of 
Ezekiel,  1344;  Babylonian  tem- 
ples, 740  H.,  1000  f.,  1003,  1279,. 
1287  f.,  1371  f. 

Teraphim,  41,3,  606,  1210f. 

Teumman  (K),  779. 

Teiishpa  (K),  758  n. 

Thapsacus  (C),  737  m. 

Thebes  (No-Amen,  C),  143  f.,  207, 
210)(.,  345,  704,  707,  770,  831, 
1030. 

Theophanies,  350,  718,  909,  1410. 

Tin  (Q),  l.-)0. 

Thothmes  (K):  I,  145,  346  ;  III,  145,. 
102,  173,  309  H. 

Tibarene.  see  Tubal. 

Tid'al  (K),  109,  117. 

Tiglathpileser  (K)  :  I,  179 f.  ;  II, 
210;  III.,  110,  279  ff.,  305  ff., 
320,  .331ff.,342ff.,  I.  app.  8.1.3, 14. 

Tigris  (R),  71  f.,  117,  216,  218,  222,. 
339,  1291  f.,  1387. 


N 


i 


-466 


INDEX  I 


< 

m  ^ 


hi 


11^ ... 


Til-Barsip  (C),  737. 

Tilshapalachi  (C),  228. 

Timnath  (C),075. 

Tin  in  commerce,  I.  app.  3. 

Tirhakah  (K),  (578,  756,  764  ff.,  II. 

app.  14. 
Tirzah  (C),  212,  267. 
Titles  of  kings,  98,  102. 
Tiyari  (L),  I,  app.  2. 
Tob  (L),  204. 
Togarmah  (LI'),  814. 
Topliet   (valley),    718,    855,    1095, 

1110. 
Tornadotos  (Turnat,  R),  218. 
Totemism,  1 183  n. 
Tower  of  Babel,  1063. 
Trade,    see    especially   Aramaeans, 

Babylonians,    Hebrews,     Phceni- 

cians,  and  Caravan. 
Tribal  conditions  in  Israel,  186,  190, 

200,  206,  363,  372  ft.,  443,  480  ff., 

630. 
Tribalism  (cf.  Nomads),  397  ff.,  458 

H.,  461,  510  (618),  950,  954,  964, 

973,  1420. 
Tribes  (cf.  Clans),  396  ff.,  458,  500. 
Tubal,  see  Tabal. 

Tuklat-Adar  (K)  :  I,  175  ;   II,  216. 
Tunip  (C),  145. 
Turkish  rfiginie  in  Asia,  27  f.,  743, 

1050. 
Turushpa  (C),  311. 
Tyre  (C)  and  Tyrians,  34,  39, 42  ff., 

126,  128,  141,  145,  152,  206,  243, 

248,  264,  302,  310,  338,  677,  680  ff., 

753  f.,    757,    771  f.,    II.   app.    10, 

10.30,  1157,    1208,    1213,    1240  h., 

1305ff. 

Uaile  (Ch),  788. 

Ukiuzir  (K),  340. 

Uknu  (Choaspes,  Kercha,  R),  107, 

339,  6((1. 
Ulai  (Eubeus,  Karun,  R),  107. 
iniuba  (L),  307. 
UUusunu  (Ch),  II.  app.  3. 
Ululai  (K),  I.  app.  8  ;  see  Shalmane- 

ser  IV. 
Uminanaldash  (K),  784  f. 
Ummanigash  (K),  779  f.,  782. 


Umman-Manda  (P ;  cf.  Scythians), 

1383  f. 
Umman-menanu  (K),  739  f. 
Universalism,  prophetic,  553  f.,  1420. 
Ur  (C),  94,   100  ff.,  104,  108,  110, 

1291. 
Ur-Ba'u  (K),95fl. 
Urdaman  (K),  767. 
Ur-gur  (K),  101. 
Uriah,  the  Ilittite,  520  ?i.,  523,  550; 

b.  Shemaiah,  1092. 
Urijah  (priest),  540. 
Urmia  (lake),  217,  248,  256. 
Ur-Nina  (Iv),  95. 
Urtaku  (K),  779. 
Urumilku  (K),  675. 
Usertesen  III  (K),  .346, 
Ushu  (C),  675,  780. 
Usury,  see  Interest. 
Uzziah   (Azariah,    K),   261,   268  f., 

306  ff.,  325,  I.  app.  9,  1358  n. 

Van  (lake),  217,  256 ;  (C),  see  Tu- 
rushpa ;  (P),  see  Manual. 
Vassalage,  see  Dependencies. 
Venality  in  Israel,  594  f. 
Venus  (planet),  1185. 
Vergil  and  Isaiah,  1406. 
Villages  (unwalled),  38. 
Virgo  (constellation),  1185  «. 
Virtues,  their  moral  quality,  958  ff. 

Wady  Brlssa,  1213  m. 

Wady  Haifa,  346. 

Wails  and  gates,  their  significance, 
1058  and  «.,  1233. 

War,  see  Militarism. 

Warfare:  Hebrew,  512 ff.,  540;  As- 
syrian. 620,  1192,  1230ff. 

Warka  (Erech,  C),  101. 

Warriors,  see  Army. 

"Wars  of  Jehovah"  (book),  894, 
900,  913. 

Watercourses,  72,  117,  663,  742, 
1051k.,  1276,  1290  ff.,  1308. 

Water-wheels,  1302??. 

Weapons,  479,  484,  614,  616. 

Week,  cf.  Sabbath. 

Well,  song  of  the,  894. 

West^land,  Asiatic,  126  ff. 


■PWM 


■■iBHI 


INDEX  I 


457 


Witch  of  Endor,  851  n. 

Women:  as  rulers,  334,  423,  755; 
as  prophetesses,  423,  851 ;  in  fam- 
ily relations,  417  ff.,  427,  430, 
1199;  as  property-holders,  422; 
emancipated,  421  £f.,  42G;  mor- 
ally and  socially,  271,  322,  596, 
721,  1184,  1189  f.,  1256,  1332. 

Words  and  their  associations,  392  f. 

Writing,  by  marks,  877  ;  cuneiform, 
80ff.,104f.,153f.,873ff.;Hettite, 
169;  alphabetic,  154,  872  ff.; 
among  the  Hebrews,  872,  877  ff.  • 
Aramaeans,  874  f. ;  Phoenicians 
(Canaanites),  872,  875,  877  f. ; 
earliest  uses,  882. 

Written  discourses,  939. 

Xenophon,  1412  n. 

Yamani  ("  Ionian  "),  II.  app.  4. 

"  Yareb,"  I.  app.  10. 

Yatbur  (L),  662. 

Yatna  ("Cyprian"),  II.  app.  4. 

Yatnan  (Cyprus,  etc.),  133,  682. 

Ya'ubi'di  (K),  I.  app.  9,  624. 


Ya'udi  (L),  I.  app.  9. 
YaUta  (Ch.),  786. 

Zab(R),  Lower,  74, 123, 171 ;  Upper. 
74.  ' 

Zadok  (priest),  1344. 
Zahi  (L),  132. 
Zalzallat  (W),  1395. 
Zarpanit  (D),  123. 
Zebulun  (TL),  272,  479. 
Zechariah  (K),  267. 
"Zechariah,"   ix.-xi.,   304,   315,  I. 

app.  11. 
Zedekiah    (K),    of  Judah,    1148 f., 
1150 ff.,  1215ff.,  1247  ;  of  Askalon, 
675,691  ;  exile,  1169. 
Zelek  of  Ammon,  550. 
Zephaniah  (prophet),  814,  830, 1138  ; 

(priest),  1170,  1215. 
Zerah,  see  Osorkon. 
Zerubbabel  (prince),  1147,  1312. 
Zikkurat  (temple  tower),  1061, 1063. 
Zion  (M),  204. 

Zoan  (Tanis,  C),  137,  656,  766. 
Zobah(L),201,  204,  209,  787. 
Zodiac,  866. 


■.■4V» . 


INDEX   II 


ANCIENT   AUTHORITIES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS 


(Passages  translated  are  marked  with  an  asterisk.) 


A.    BIBLICAL 


liiii 


GENESIS 


i.-xi. 

ii.-iv. 

ii. 

i'.  10 

ii.  13 

iii.  6 

iii.  15  f. 

iv.  7 

iv.  12,  14,  15 

iv.  20-22 

iv.  23,  24 

V.  2!> 

viii.  21  f. 

ix.  13 

ix.  18  f. 

ix.  25-27 

ix.  20  f . 

X.  2f. 

X.  7 

X.  10 

X.  11,12 

X.  12 

X.  13 

X.  15-18 

X.  26ff. 

xi. 

xii.  2f. 

xii.  6 

xii.  10  ff. 

xiii.  7 

xiv. 


§885-888 
932 
12<tl  n. 
105  n. 
120 
112G 
927 
112G 
398  n. 
431,  929 
889 
927 
927 
»i4 
929 
929 
640,  927 
758 

3;i4 

101,111,). 

932 

74 

1089  «. 

130  «. 

932 

111,  932 

927 

931 

955 

I.  app.  4 


109,  111,  153,  276, 

•     ,.  732  n. 

xiv.  14  447n.,  520 

«iv.  18  690 


XV.  2ff. 
XV.  6 
XV.  9fr. 
XV.  li)-21 
xvi. 
xvi.  1 
xvi   12 
xvii.  19 
xviii.  19 
xviii.  32 
xix.  17,  26 
XX.  1  ff . 
XX.  3 
XX.  7 
XX.  13 
xxi.  10, 14 
xxi.  20 
xxi.  21 
xxii. 
xxiii. 
xxiii.  4 
xxiv.  28flf. 
XXV.  3 
i  XXV.  4 
XXV.  6 
XXV.  9f. 
XXV.  13 
XXV.  27 
XX  vi.  3it. 
xxvii. 
xxvii.  3ff. 
xxviii.  1,  5 
xxviii.  13flf. 
xxix.  14  f. 
XXX.  14  ff. 
xxxi.  21 


§412 

932,  9(i2 

1219 

130  H. 

957 

437  n. 

314 

I.  app.  12 

412,  774  n.,  927 

1201 


405  n. 


1395  n. 
955 
418 
928* 
930  «. 
412 
337  ?i. 
430 
412 
160 
549 
,419 
;i34 
030 
412,  594 
4(iO 
3;J4 
337  n. 
160,  412 
412,  428  w. 
337/1.,  927 
412 
931 
412 
927 
I.  app.  y 


xxxi.  43 

xxxi.  49  f.,  55 
xxxi.  .')3 
xxxii.  13,  xxxiii 
xxxiii.  30 f. 
xxxiv. 

xxxiv.  2 

xxxiv.  12 

xxxiv.  30 

XXXV.  2  ff . 

XXXV.  22 

XXX vi.  31  ff. 

XXX vi.  43 

XXX vii.  25 

xxxviii. 

xxxviii.  If. 

xxxviii.  14  ff. 

xxxviii.  15  ff. 

xxxviii.  17  ff. 
xxxviii.  18,  22 
xxxviii.  21 
xxxix.  8 
xliii.  11  ff. 
xliv.  18  ff. 
xiv.  8 
xlvi.  34 
xlviii.  14  (f. 
xlviii.  22  514 

xlix. 
xlix.  3f. 
1.  16  f. 


§412 

413 

930  «. 

10     .594 

931 

447  n. 

130  tt. 

419 

I.  app.  4 

901 

418  n. 

396  n. 

152 

2;« 

927,  92!) 
447  n. 
1332  n. 
957 
684 
928* 
1190 
960 
414,  .594 
927 
431 
132  rt. 
428  n. 
,  5()3«.« 
906 
428  ;i. 
414 


EXODUS 
iii.  16  443 

iv.  22  429,  4;i2 

iv.  29  443 


469 


;■    !■ 


!;  ■ 


'   1. 

,'V 

1 

.  \ 

■ '  I- 

T 

i 

i 

1 

i,'  ^BB 

460 

INDEX 

II 

1 

V.  14  ff. 

§  f)<i7 

xxi.  14-18,27-30  §894,899  1 

xxiii.  9,  14 

§419' 

vi.it 

440 

xxi.  15 

8!H* 

xxiii.  15  f. 

643 

xii.  21 

443 

xxii.  8 

9:58 

xxiii.  17  f. 

857,  1190, 

xii.  48 

552 

xxiii.,  xxiv. 

895 

13:iO 

XV. 

85)0 

xxiii.  3 

9;w 

xxiii.  19  ff . 

552,  570,  577 

xvi.  4f. 

1340  n. 

xxiii.  9 

299,  4(i(J 

xxiv.  1 

419 

xvii.  14 

891 

xxiii.  10 

90«}//. 

xxiv.  6 

684  n. 

xviii.           3«,455ff.,8<)l  i 

xxvi.  51 

II 

.  app.  13 

xxiv.  7 

547 

xviii.  21 

47(5  n. 

xxvii.  8 

427 

xxiv.  10  ff. 

584 

xviii.  2")  f. 

^rt')* 

XXX. 13 

41i)* 

xxiv.  19 

577 

xx.-xxiii. 

474 ff.,  891 

XXXV. 15 

552 

XXV.  13,  15 

596 

XX.  22-xxiii 

920-922 

xxxvi.  2ff. 

427 

xxvi.  1  ff. 

4()1,  502,  5«K) 

XX.  10 

4(i3H.,474H. 

xxxvi.  0 

420 

xxvi.  5 

2(!,  4:<4  II. 

XX.  17 

418,  13:50 

xxvi.  10 

1024* 

xxi.  1-11 
xxi.  2 

541,  584  ». 
1217 

DEUTERONOMY 

xxvi.  12  f. 
xxvii.-xxx. 

562,  57(i 
847  11. 

xxi. « 

488 

i.-iv.  40 

847  n. 

xxvii.  17 

583 

xxi.7iT. 

427 

i.O,  9 

4<i2 

xxviii.()4ff. 

IKW 

xxi.  12  ff. 

9<ki 

i.  13,  15 

455 

xxix.  10  f. 

552 

xxi.  i;j 

4(»5,  474«. 

i.  1(> 

5.52 

xxix.  14 

583 

xxi.  ItJ 

547 

iii.  9          242 

n., 

I.  app.  3 

XXX.  14 

1023 

xxi.  20 ff. 

475,  487,  542 

v.  3 

944 

xxxi.-xxxiv 

847  ». 

xxii.  .5ff. 

475,  488 

V.  (!-21 

892 

xxxi.  12 

552 

xxii.  7  f. 

101.^) 

v.  15 

547 

xxxii.  () 

432 

xxii.  Ki 

419 

vi.4 

1335 

xxxii.  9ff. 

434 11. 

xxii.  21  f. 

552,  921 

vi.  10 

503 

xxxiii.  9f. 

1015 

xxii.  25 

57() 

vii.  9 

13;?5 

xxxiii.  28 

2'.»9 

xxii.  2(if. 

584,  921 

X.  18  f. 

552 

xxii.  28 

488 /(. 

xii.  1-28 

8(X) 

xxiii.  8 

59.->* 

.\ii.  3 

8-)4 

JOSHUA 

xxiii.  J»ff. 

475,  552,  57t) 

xii.  9 

1024* 

vi.  2() 

498  H. 

xxiii.  12 

134() «. 

Xii.  29-31 

a55 

vii.  21 

l(Mi4 

xxiii.  10 

1  Un. 

xiii. 

856  «. 

ix.  7, 17 

130  n. 

xxiii.  20-23 

921 

xiii.  12ff. 

502 

X.  12 

8<M)« 

xxv.-xxxi. 

891 

xiv.  21 

552 

xi.  3 

130 /(. 

xxxiv,  17-26                 8<t2 

xiv.  28f. 

57(i 

XV.  3 

1.52 

xxxiv.  22 

1344  u. 

XV.  12ff. 

584  n.,  1217 

XV.  41 

095 

XXXV.  41 

891 

xvi.  1-17 

8()2 

xix.  44 

093 

xvi.  5 

1024* 

xix.  45 

095 

LEVITICUS 

xvi.  Off. 
xvi.  18 

547 
455 

,  552,  ."»7<) 
,  401,  .502 

XX.  4 
xxiv.  19  f. 

510 
501 

xvii.-xxvi. 

1302 

xvi.  19 

595 

xix.  2 

xix.  X\  f. 

1302  ». 
562 

xvi.  21  f. 
xvii.  2-7 

854 
850 

JUDGES 

XXV.  .'Ci,  47 

549 

xvii.  5 

■M 

i.  4f. 

I.  app.  4 

x.wi.  :iO 

321 

xvii.  8ff. 

401 

i.  14f. 

5(i3 

xviii.  Iff. 

8(i3, 1019 

i.  18 

192 

NUMBERS 

xviii.  10-14 
xviii.  15  ff. 

855,  858 
858 

i.  19 
i.  2(! 

478 
I.  app.  5 

i.-x. 

891 

xix.  12 

480,  510 

i.  28ff. 

640 

ii.!M(i,24, 

31    II.  app.  13 

xix.  15  ff. 

502 

i.  34 

13<)  Ji. 

iv.  18 

3!K) 

xxi.  IIT. 

486,  850 

iii.  3 

130  «. 

xi.  .5 

440 

xxi.  15-17 

428 

iii.  31 

479,  917  n. 

xi.  Kiff, 

401  n. 

xxii.  l.-)ff. 

48(5 

iv.  4 

423 

xiii.  a.'( 

929 

xxii.  22  ff . 

1331 

iv.  11, 17 

416,  !Ni4 

xxi.  5 

440 

xxiii.  3f. 

550  n. 

V. 

479 

§419- 

843 

857,  llJtO, 

13;iO 

12,  57«i,  f»77 

410 

684 »). 

647 

684 

577 

6!K> 

11,  502,  5i)0 

2(i,  4;i4 ;/. 

1024* 

552,  57(J 

847  «. 

583 

lltM 

5.')2 

583 

102.3 

847  ». 

ru,2 

432 

434  «. 

1015 

2'.»i) 


408  ». 

](h;4 

130  H. 
8!  Hi* 

130  ». 
l.")2 
()0.T 
«03 
(i05 
510 
501 


app.  4 
5(i3 
1!»2 
478 

app.  5 
540 

i;?<i  n. 

130  n. 
|»,  917h. 
423 
^16,  !Ni4 
479 


INDEX   II 

401 

V.  8 

§188 

ix.  21 

§  3<l(i 

Xii.  1  ff. 

§  003 

V.  14 

870* 

X.  4 

773  ». 

xii.  2(1  ff. 

57 

V.  24 

410,  9(h4 

X.  15ff. 

•670 

xii.  31 

872 

vi.  27ff. 

482  n. 

X.  12 

908  n. 

xiii.  12 

OTl 

vi.  30 

415 

X.  2(5 

67,  501 

xiv.  7 

465- 

vi.34 

4(X) 

X.  27 

6;t4 

xiv.  14 

398  Jt. 

vii. 

732  n. 

xii.  3ff. 

505,  07(1 

XV.  2 

lii 

viii.  18ff. 

072 

xiii.  2ff. 

517,  (187 

XV.  19 

500 

viii.  22 f. 

51 

xiii.  8flf. 

57 

XV.  24 

803 

viii.  33T. 

482«.,5.'>2 

xiii.  10 

120  «. 

XV.  :^ 

070 

ix.  (iff. 

5:54 

xiv.  1  ff. 

474  m.,  732  «. 

xvi.  1  ff. 

520 

ix.  7-15 

{t08 

xiv.  44 

415 

xvi.2()ff.           418 

n.,071 

ix.  27 

124*1 

xiv. 

152,  517 

xvii.  4 

971 

ix.  40, 

33,  482  n. 

XV. 

075 

xvii.  21  f. 

52(K 

ix.  51  ff. 

•Xi 

XV.  22.  23 

!K)8 

xviii.  1 

618 

X.  3ff. 

101 

XV.  2(1  f. 

10(17 

xviii.  .'{.3 

•102 

X.  12 

800* 

xvii.  17 

520 

xix.  43             n. 

■vpp.  11 

xi.  ;V) 

008 

xvii.  18,  xviii.  13          517 

XX.  1 

405 

xiii.-xvi. 

017 

xvii.  40,  51 

78.")  H. 

xxi.  2 

I'M)  II. 

xiv.  2f. 

427 

xviii.  7 

008 

xxi.  11  ff. 

•t72 

xiv.  14,  18,  XV 

.  1(! 

xviii.  17  ff. 

427 

xxii.,  see  P.s.  xviii 

i)08,  018H. 

xix.  13ff.,xx.  5ff.        070 

xxiii.  1-7 

908/). 

XV.  1(5 

•108 

XX.  G 

484 

xxiii.  37 

rm 

xvii.51f.  503, 

m:\,iinn. 

XX.  8-10 

1248 

xxiv.  3 

523 

xvii.  10 

431 

XX.  18 

400 /(. 

xxiv.  G          1,30 H., 

204  «., 

xviii.  7,  28 

I.  app.  .3 

XX.  '2->  ff. 

41.-. 

I 

api».  5 

xviii.  10 

4.31,  504 

xxi.  6.  29 

500 

xxiv.  15  ff. 

707 

xix.-xxi.    103 

482h.,  <H)5 

xxii.  3f. 

550  H. 

xix.  1(> 
xix.  22 

501 

0(15 

xxiv.  13 
XXV.  5ff. 

00H». 
520 

1  KINGS 

xxi.  12 

3!H> 

XXV.  10 

543  «. 

i.41,45 

33 

xxi.  10  ff. 

1240 

XXV.  14  ff. 

420,  542 

ii.  30f. 

.543  n. 

xxi.  21 

{)(,5 

XXV.  44 

427 

iii.  10  ff. 

5!H) 

xxi.  25 

603 

xxvi.  10 

58 

iii.  28 

726 

xxvii.  0 

010 

iv.  25 

604 

RUTH 

XXX. 14 

102  n. 

iv.  ;{0f. 

010 

i.  10 

58 

xxxi.  10 

200  ?i. 

iv.  32  (v.  12) 

{K)4 

ii.  4 

501,, 108 

V.  20                      I 

app.  .3 

iv.  1  ff. 
iv.  10  ff. 

477,  480 
34 

2   SAMUEL 

viii.  41  f. 
viii.  53 

553 
907  m.* 

i.  10-27 

808 

ix.  11 

272 

1  SAMUEL 

lii.  7f. 
iii.  13  ff. 

418  n. 
427 

ix.  18 
ix.  2(1  ff. 

141 

B2» 

i. 

4:iO 

iii.  17,  V.  3 

5.37 

X.  22 

624 

il.  1-10 

<M)8 

iii.  .33 

902  n.*,  908 

X.28    230  w.,  I.  app.  6,. -.10- 

ii.  12ff. 

■680, 1248 

V.  8 

908  n. 

xi.  41 

13.58 

lii.  13 

414* 

V.  21 

209 /(. 

xii.  1,20 

637 

V.  3  f . 

140(1 ». 

vii.  10  f. 

105 

xii.  10 

465- 

vi.  4  f . 

707 

viii.  2 

072 

xiv.  23 

.120 

vii.  14 

403 

viii.  3 

I.  app.  5 

XV. 

922  m. 

viii.  Iff. 

505 

viii.  6, 14 

474 

XV.  12 

lliK) 

viii.  Off. 

5M 

viii.  Off. 

202,  52.3 

XV.  14 

320 

viii.  12 

517 

ix.  Off. 

415,  .542 

XV.  19 

5!U 

viii.  19  f. 

51 

xi.  1 

2;t;i  n. 

XV.  22 

1244  m. 

ix.  5ff. 

542 

xi.  Off. 

520  n. 

xvi.  9 

.520 

ix.9 

937  m. 

xi.  m 

230  n. 

xvi.  31           92, 1. 

app.  3. 

402 

INDKX  ir 

1 

xvi.  :u 

§  4<.t8  # 

xiv.  4 

§  320 

xix.  12 

§  227 

xviii.  2.'i 

732 

xiv.  7 

2,>4 

xix.  13 

;u9* 

xviii.  40 

10(57 

xiv.  8-14 

2U) 

xix.  32  f. 

II.  app.  14 

xix.  .'< 

<);«) 

xiv.  22 

2(iit 

xix.  .35 

II.  .ipp.  13 

xix.  l.'i 

241 

xiv.  25 

262 

xix.  37 

744»i.,  746f.* 

xix. IS 

!IS3 

xiv.  28 

I.  app.  9 

XX. 

6:55,  (537 

XX. 

2:{1,  '2Xi 

XV.  1-7 

13,-)8/(. 

XX.  Off. 

640 

XX.  14  ff. 

531 

XV.  4 

320 

xxi.  5,  6 

799,  855 

XX.  2; iff. 

58,  520  H. 

XV.  5 

.'«)M 

xxi.  7 

1182 

XX.  ;u 

34,  212,  231  f. 

XV.  10 

267/*.* 

xxi.  19,  23 ff.                  80(5 

xxi.  ;i,  7 

981 

XV.  13 

315 

xxii.-xxiii. 

3          84(5-8,-)2 

xxi.  KMf) 

239,  583 

XV.  16 

306 

xxii.  10  f. 

1039* 

xxii.  t  f. 

231,  2:u 

XV.  19  f. 

280,  310* 

xxii.  20 

(598 

x.\ii.  4li 

320 

I.  app.  8 

xxiii.  4-20 

8.53-858 

xxii.  4(! 

IIJK) 

XV.  29  f. 

272,  280,  ;«1* 

xxiii.  4,  7, 

11             84(5  H. 

xxii.  4H 

236 

1.  app.  13 

xxiii.  8  f. 

1019 

XV.  Xi 

118». 

xxiii.  12 

640 

Q 

KINGS 

xvi.  2 

635 

xxiii.  14 

321 

i. 

978 

xvi.3f. 

319,  .320 

xxiii.  15  ff. 

840 

i.  8 

684  «. 

xvi.  6ff. 

325,  XiTt 

xxiii.  24 

1211  n. 

i.9 

518 

xvi.  6 

y,m)i. 

xxiii.  29 

827 

ii.  12 

431 

xvi.  7      280 

286,  .326,  .540 

xxiii.  30 

10.39 

iii. 

2a5 

xvi.  8 

.594 

xxiii.  31 

1039  m. 

iil.2 

321 

xvi.  9       6!I7  n.,  II.  app.  7 

xxiii.  3;$ 

1040 

iii.  27 

12.33  «. 

xvi.  10 

280,  ;{.•«) 

.xxiii.  34 

1039 

Iv.  1  ff. 

541,  585 

xvi.  18 

II.  app.  7 

xxiii.  36 

1039  H. 

iv.  8ff. 

420 

xvii.  3 

640 

xxiv.  1 

540,  1075  H. 

iv.  28 

134(iH. 

xvii.  4-<> 

34.3*,  ;!62, 

xxiv.  2 

1078 

iv.  42 

677  ». 

I. 

app.  (i,  82.3  )i. 

xxiv.  3f. 

1122  M. 

V.  2 

2.3.3 

xvii.  24,  ;» 

\n,  761  H. 

xxiv.  (5 

1078 

V.  15 

701 

xvii.  26  ff. 

.58,  61 

xxiv.  8 

10.39,  1079 

V.  17 

(il 

xviii.  13-xix 

.  ;J5     11.  app. 

xxiv.  13  ff. 

1080. 12:54  «., 

vi.,  vii. 

236 

14 

1275,  130(5 

vi.  8,  24 

231 

xviii.  2 

()3-) 

xxiv.  18 

II.  app.  (5 

vi.  21-23 

129n,  23.3,  431, 

.will.  4 

321,8.54 

xxiv.  19 

ll.Ti 

(;i2* 

xviii.  8 

(551,  7(K),  792 

XXV.  1 

1214 

vii.  G 

I.  app.  5 

xviii.  it-U 

.343,  3()2*,  6:{,5 

XXV.  2 

II.  app.  6 

vii.  13 

51!t 

xviii.  9-13   I 

.app.  (J,  501 ». 

XXV.  3-10 

1230-1233 

viii.  12 

244 

xviii.  13 

(i3.5,  68(5 

XXV.  7 

1197 

viii.  i:5ff. 

241 

xviii.  14-1(> 

287,  2<t0, 

XXV.  18  ff. 

1170,  1192  «., 

viii.  22 

mn  n. 

688* 

,  (593,  II.  app. 

12.\5 

ix.  14 

2;\C,n. 

11*,  14 

XXV.  22 

843 

ix.  24ff. 

583 

xviij.  17 

69(5, 1233  «. 

XXV.  23 

1243  n. 

X.  15  ff. 

41(1 

xviii.  20  f. 

(5!M5 

XXV.  27  ff . 

1081,  r,m, 

X.  2(i  f . 

321 

xviii.  21 

II.  app.  4 

Ki69 

X.  32f. 

236,  243 

xviii.  22 

68,  2<)0,  700 

xi.,  xii. 

254 

xviii.  23 

519 

1  CHRONICLES 

xi.  4, 19 

518 

xviii.  25 

103(5,  1029  ?i. 

xi.  2i)ff. 

979 

xviii.  2(i-35 

701 

i.  12 

166  n. 

xii.  3 

320 

xviii.  27 

1179  m. 

ii.  65 

416, 1275  «. 

xii.  4ff. 

84(i 

xviii.  32 

74,  353 

iii.  17  f. 

1039  n.,  1081, 

xii.  17  f. 

243  and  n. 

xviii.  34 

94,  349,  (580 

1147 

xiii.  4f. 

246*,  252 

xix. 

702-704 

iv.  12 

1275  71. 

xiii.  7 

245*,  519 

xix.  3-37 

741  n. 

V.  6 

280 

xiii.  14 

431 

xix.  8ff. 

(578,  (593, 

V.  26 

280 

ociii.  24f. 

251  f. 

11.  app.  14 

XV.  17 

337  n. 

§227 

II.  app.  14 

II.  app.  i;{ 

■44  ?i.,  74(>f.* 

G;{ij,  (i;{7 

f)40 

7!)!),  HTm 

11H2 

K0(> 

84()-S.-)2 

10;!!)* 

(m 

853-858 

M()  n. 

1019 

G40 

321 

840 

1211  n. 

827 

io;«) 
io;$«)/i. 

1040 

103J) 

1039  H. 

540,  1075  «. 

1078 

1122  «. 

1078 

1039,  1079 

)80, 1234«., 

1275,  13(H) 

II.  app.  (i 

ii,r> 

1214 
II.  app.  6 
1230-1233 
1197 
[70,  1192  n., 
12,^5 
843 
1243  n. 

1081,  i;m, 

Ki«9 

ICLES 

KM)  n. 

m,  1275  «. 

)n.,  1081, 

1147 

1275  n. 

280 

280 

337  n. 


INDEX   II                                                403 

xxvi.  18                  §  Hrr> 

xxii.  Off.,  xxiv.  2ff. 

lxviii.5                       §4;V2 

xxvii.  25tT.               540  «. 

§  .VU,  .'-)99 

Ixviii.  29                   286//. 

xxix.  15                         649 

xxix.  7ff.            34,  (iOO/i. 

Ixix.                              1:563 

xxxi.                              600 

lx.\i.                              i:U)3 

2  CHRONICLES 

xxxi.  11                          592 
xxxi.  13 ff.           406,  .U'!* 

Ixxii.                          60O//. 
Ixxii.  4,  lOff.               (MH* 

i.  16                           230  71. 

xxxii.  7                         5(H) 

Ixxii.  10                     286  n. 

viii.  4                             141 

xxxviii.  28                4.32//. 

Ixxiii.              598,  (508.  986 

xiv. 4                             321 

xlii.  10                            :!01 

Ixxiv.  8, 10      796 /t.,  1239 

xvi.  14                     121(W(. 

xlii.  15                            4;i0 

Ixxvi.                          731;/.               ^ 

XX.                                  215 

Ixxviii.  60                      490 

xxi.  19                     1216 /(. 

PSALMS 

Ixxix.                            12J19 

xxiv.  23f.                  243  «. 

i.  5                                  601 

Ixxx.  8ff.                    434  «. 

XXV.  7                        275  ?i. 

ii.  6f.                             4.32 

Ixxxi.  6                     434 /t. 

xxvi.              268 f.,  540  n. 

iv.  7                              991* 

Ixxxii.  16                       B98 

xxvii.  5                     269 H. 

V.  4  ff.                            (501 

Ixxxiii.                           215 

xxviii.  5ff.,18             325 

x. 3                                  598 

ixxxiv.                    i:«;3 

xxviii.  20                       280 

xi.  5                               320 

Ixxxvi.  9,  Lxxxvii.        554 

xxviii.  23                      640 

xii.  5                              602 

ixxxix.  14                      4."i7 

xxxii.  3-5                      ()98 

xiv.                         598,  (iOH 

Ixxxix.  26f.           42<t,  432 

xxxii.  27f.                     (551 

xiv.  20                        785//. 

xc.  2                               432 

xxxii.  30                  698?).* 

XV.                           595,  (101 

xci.  5f.              II.  app.  13 

xxxiii.  10                     790* 

xvii.                                 ,598 

xciv.  20                           598 

x.xxiii.  11                       798 

.xviii.         718,  908  f.,  1410 

-xcvii.  2                         457 

xxxiv.  4,  7                     321 

XX.                  1073,  1211  «. 

ci.                               600  ;i. 

XXXV.  21,  23              1034* 

xxii.                               i;{63 

Hi.  lOff.                        5-A 

XXXV.  24  f.        1035*,  1 2.37 

xxii.  25 ff.              554,601 

ciii.  13                            433 

xxxvi.  13                      1148 

xxiv.-xxvi.           595, 601 

eiii.20f.                         407 

xxxvi.  17                 1232  «. 

xxvii.  11                  1054  n. 

cv.  HIT.               4:nn. 

xxviii.  2 ff.                    (JOl 

cxix.  19                          .549 

EZRA 

xx.xi.  19f.                      (501 

cxxvi.                 12(53,  13(i3 

i.  2ff.                       1416  n. 

x.vxv.  15                    896//. 

fxxxvii.            1263,  l.'U8* 

I  i 

i.  8,  etc.                       1312 

XXXV.  16                          .598 

cxxxvii.  7               1078//., 

1  ;^ 
til 

ii.  59f.                          1273 

xxxvi.                        CM)  II. 

1240  n. 

iii.  3                                 61 

xxxvii.           598,  601,  (509 

cxxxix.                     609  n. 

iii.  7                           45,  ()7 

xxxviii.                          ()09 

exii.  6                 am 

iv.  2                   761«.,799 

xxxix.                    649, 609 

exlvi.  7                        848 

iv,  9                   101  »i.,  799 

xl.  12ff.                         609 

cxlvi.  9                          .5.")4 

iv.  12  ff.                        1241 

xli.-xliii.                       (.01 
xlii.,xliii.        607 /t.,  609, 

cxlvii.  2-4                1406/1, 

NEHEMIAH 

1011 
xliii.  3t.                     l.'MO* 

PROVERBS 

V.  3ff.                     541,. ')85 

xiv.  12                286  Ji.,  .594 

iii.  12                            408 

V.  9                                  (KX) 

xlvi.                               731 

vi.  Iff.                        886 

vi.  14                           851 »(. 

xlvi.  4                      731//.* 

vi.  20                            430 

vi.  15                            1185 

xlvi.  9                        746  «. 

vi.  35                              694 

vii.Glf.                       1273 

xlviii.3                    1402 //. 

viii.  15                       879/1. 

viii.  Iff.                          31 

xl  viii.  riff.             1233//. 

X.  3,  7                           601 

viii.  17                     1273  n. 

xlix.  Off.                598,(501 

xi.  1,  1.5,26                  898 

xii.  27,  30               1233  n. 

1.                                     909 

xiii.  22f.                       601 

1.  11                       I.  app.  7 

xiv.  1                            420 

JOB 

Ii.                          718,  13()3 

xiv.  21,  31                      601 

i.  15                                334 

Iii.                           598,  (501 

XV.  27                     594,  595 

iii.  2ft.                        1112 

lv.,lvi.                   598,601 

xvi.  11                            5i)6 

vi.  19                              334 

Iviii.                               598 

xvii.  8,  23               594,  595 

ix.  24                             600 

Ixiii.  1, 5                      609 

xviii.  16                 594,  595 

464 


INDEX   II 


Si  i'  ^  "'' 


xlx.  1,  17,2a 
XX.  10,  23 
XX.  I(J 
xxi.  12,  13 
xxi.  14 
xxi.  27 
xxii.  22 f. 
xxii.  20  r. 
xxiii.  lOf. 
xxiv.  1.-)1T. 
XXV.  14 
xxviii.  8,  27 
xxix.  4 
xxix.  7 
xxix.  18 
XXX.  10  ff. 
XXX.,  xxxl. 
XXX.   10  ff. 

xxxi.  1, 10  ff. 


§lk)l 
584,  S'.tti 

vm 

(iOl 
34,  (K)l 

mi 

683* 
(301 
6!)5 

mi 
rm 

(iOl 
12«!0» 
420 
(110 
420 
420(910) 


ECCLESIASTES 


V.  8 
vii.  7 


I. 

1.  8 
Ivft 
1.11 
i.  13 
1.17 
1.  21 
i.  23 
i.  2!) 
ii.  1 
ii.  1-8 
ii.  0 
ii.  1(> 
ii.  18,  20 
iii.  2f. 
iii.  4,  12 
iii.  10  f. 

V.  Hff. 

V.  2."> 
vi.  '.»f. 
vii. 
vii.  3 
vii.  14  ff. 
viii.  Iff. 
viii.  f) 
viii.  ()f. 
viii.  8f. 
viii.  19 
viii.  22 


rm* 

(7.14 

ISAIAH 

309 

213 

23f)?i.,:»9 

540 

1011 

JMO 

604* 

33 

S95 

•^21,860n. 

318  n. 

318,  321,  r,Xi 

(543 

67,  209 

321 

321 

317,  420 

321,  mi 

583,  5!»6 

309 

319,  [)m 

325  ff. 

098 

I.  app.  12 

329,  (!40 

698».,9!)5 

730 ?i.,  1308  «. 

I.  app.  12* 

321 

329 


xxviii.  7 
xxviii.  28 
xxix.-xxxii. 
xxix.  10 
XXX.  3-7 

xxx.  7 

XXX.  9  ft. 
xxx.  15  f. 
XXX.  22 
xxx.  27  f . 
xxxi.  1 


§  272 

I.  app.  12, 
•,  00.3,  720 

325  «. 

325 

595,879/1. 

722-727 

3,  2!t7,  725 

78 

1312  n. 

lll>f. 

292 

687 

725*,  730 

720 

324 

1401  f. 

10.-)0 

290,  1402* 

273  n. 

2(i9 

330,  ;i55 

321 

^55-0.19 

709 

153,  87!»  f. 

8(K)  n. 

129  «. 

(i31,634,  058f.,  711 

II.  app.  4 

1404 

1401  n. 

697  f.,  722 

OiMJ 

559 

772 

5,54 

1233  «. 

321 

{«)5 

212,  355,  mi 

580,  590, 

642f.,040f. 

1200 

475  n. 

711-721 

720 

286??.,  700, 

II.  app.  15 
II.  app.  15*, 

V.'AHill. 

420,  5!Hi,  721 

71(5* 

321 

7:50 

520 


viii.  23 
ix.  5IT. 

4.31  n 
ix.  8-x.  4 
ix.  12 

X.  I 

X.  5-xi.  16 
X.  5 
X.  7 
X.  8 
X.  9 
X.  14 
X.  28-32 
X.  33f. 
xi.2f. 
xiii.-xix. 
xiii.-xiv.  23 
xiii.  19 
xiv.  4ff. 
XV.,  xvi,, 
xvi.  1  ff. 
xvii.  1-11 
xvii.  8 
xviii.-xx. 
xix.  1-13 
xix.  18 
xix.  19,  20 
xix.  24 

XX. 
XX.  1 

xxi.  1-10 
xxi.  2 
xxii. 
xxii.  0  f. 
xxii.  15  ff. 
xxiii. 
XXV.  Off. 
XX  vi.  1 
xxvii.  9 
xxviii. 
xxviii.  1-4 
xxviii.  5-29 


xxxi.  7 
xxxii.  Iff. 
xxxiii. 
xxxiii.  7 
xxxiii.  8 
xxxiii.  i;5-16 
xxxiii.  15 
xxxiii.  18 
xxxiii.  20 
xxxiii.  21  f. 
xxxvi.  12 
xxxvii.  7 
xxxvii.  18 
xxxvii 
xxxvii 
xxxvii 
xxxvii 
xxxviii. 
xxxviii. 
xxxviii, 
xxxix.  I 
xxxix.  7 
xl.-lv. 

xi.  ;j-5 

xl.  20  t. 
xl.  2!)  f. 
xli.  2ff. 


.  2.) 
.  29 
,  .'50 
.3(5 


0 
10-20 


xli.  7 
xli.  8f. 
xli.  14 
xli.  17  ff. 
xlii.  (5 
xlii.  7 
xlii.  15 
xlii.  21 
xliii.  3,  7 
xliii.  14 
xliii.  27 
xliv.  1  f. 
xliv.  5 
xliv.  12-20 
xliv.  28 
xlv.  3 
xlv.  4 
xlv.  6 
xlv.  13 
xlv.  20 
xlv.  22  f . 
xlvi.  Iff. 

xlvi.  11 
xlvii.  2 
xlvii.  12  ff. 

xlviii.  18 


§  321 

()():< 

728-7:^10 

7o;» 

(590 /i. 

729* 

S'A"),  001 

729* 

465 

7;«)* 

717 
70l> 
723 

708 

718 

721  n. 

704* 

6;55 

(537 

9(«> 

591,  079 

798/?. 

14a-)  ff . 

1410* 

i.'{;i8 

1400 /i. 

1403  n.,  1409, 

1411//. 

1405 

1313 

140i) 

1400/?. 

1411/1. 

140(5  ?i. 

72 

298 

1313,  1405 

1405 

431 

1313 

407*,  553 

1338,  1400  H. 

1411  n* 

310 

1409 

1411 

1411  n. 

140(5  n. 

553 

299  ?i.,  1405, 

140(5  71. 

1403  n.,  1409 

1405 

858,  1211, 

1405 

1296  n. 


i 


nx"' 


U' 


§  ;»2i 

(iO.t 
728-7;)0 

mi 

cm  n. 

729* 

6a-),  cm 

729* 

7;«)* 

717 
709 

72;j 

708 

718 

721 «. 

704* 

c;«> 
(i:J7 

90t) 

594,  (i79 

798  «. 

i4ajff. 

1410* 

l.'UW 

140(i  n. 

103  n.,  1409, 

1411 «. 

1405 

1313 

1409 

140(! «. 

1411 «. 

140(5  ji. 

72 

298 

1313,  1405 

1405 

431 

1313 

407*,  553 

18,  UWin. 

1411  «.* 

310 

1409 

1411 

1411 11. 

1400  H. 

553 

?i.,  1405, 

140071. 

n.,  1409 

1405 

18,  1211, 

1405 

129G  n. 


INDEX  II 

405 

xiix.  nff. 

§  1405,  141H 

vii.  21  iT. 

§  10(58,  l(H.t4* 

xxvi.  10 

§lll8n. 

xlix.  12 

1418 

vii.  2!>-;(;{ 

109.")* 

xxvi.  18     M4,  II.  app.  8, 

xlix.  10 

12.33  H. 

viii.  1-1(5 

10-.H5f.* 

998 

xlix.  19 

12iHi».,  141H 

viil.  2 

85(5 

xxvi.  22  f. 

1121«. 

xlix.  23 

1418 

viii.  10 

.589 

xxvii.3f. 

1154,  ll.-)()f. 

li. 

419,  .541,. 585 

viii.  18-22 

1098 

XX vii,  5-22 

1157 

li.  1  f. 

434  «. 

ix.  1 

1098* 

xxvii.  1<5 

11.57* 

li.  3,  11 

141H 

ix.  22  f. 

1099* 

xxviii.  Iff. 

110(5,  ll,V)f., 

li.  13  f. 

14Wi;(. 

ix.  24 

1114 

ll.-)8f.* 

li.  14 

1221,  141.5* 

xi.  1-8 

10(55 /(. 

xxviii.  11,  13 

11.59;(.* 

liii.3f. 

1145 

xi.  1-xil.  6 

llOOf. 

xxix. 

11(57-1170 

liii.  9 

(Wl 

xi.  2 

1.341 

xxix.  2 

1275 

liv.  2 

4(i5 

xi.21 

106(5  n.,  10(59 

xxix.  5,  28 

1194  n. 

liv.  4-6 

42(i 

xii.6 

llOit* 

xxix.  21  ff. 

12(58 

liv.  11  f. 

12;J3/i. 

xii.  7-14 

1140 

xxix.  2(5 

1006 

Ivi.  Of. 

553 

xii.  14 

1078  „. 

xxx.-xxxiii. 

1173 /t. 

Iviii.  llf. 

12i)(iH. 

xiii.  1-7 

1255  n. 

xxxi.  9 

429 

lix.  19 

12'.t(>«. 

xiii.  1-27 

1143 

xxxi.  15 

1242 

Ix.  .3  IT. 

.55.3 

xiii.  15-18 

114.3* 

xxxi.  20 

432 

Ix.  « 

630  ». 

xiv.-xvii. 

1124-1127 

xxxi.  29  f. 

1204 

Ix.  7 

787  «. 

xiv.  8 

1125* 

xxxi.  ;«)ff. 

i:hi* 

Ix.  8f, 

(Mi 

xiv.  13 

1125* 

xxxi.  .32 

42(5 

Ix.  18 

ia58«. 

XV.  1-9 

112(5* 

xxxi.  34 

5.54 11, 

lxii.4 

418,  420  n. 

XV.  10-21 

1242  n. 

xxxii.  3-5 

1221  «. 

Ixiii.  10 

432 

XV.  19-21 

112(5* 

xxxii.  (5-44 

1225  f.,  1321 

Ixiv.  8 

432 

xvi.  13 

955 

xxxii.  7  ff. 

10(59 

Ixv.  21 

1194  It. 

xvi.  19 

.55.3 

xxxii.  9-14 

1225  n. 

Ixvi.  3,  17 

1183  n. 

xvii.  5-13 

1127 /(. 

xxxii.  24 

VIM 

Ixvi.  12 

I'Miu. 

xvii.  14-18 

1127 

xxxiv. 

121(5-1219 

Ixvi.  18  ff. 

553 

xviii. 

1102-1104 

xxxiv.  13  f. 

584  m.,  1219 

xix.  1-15 

1110 

xxxv.        41tj 

,465,  1141  f. 

JEREMIAH 

XX.  2 
XX.  7-13 

106(5,  1118  «. 
1112* 

xxxv. 19 
XXX vi.  Iff. 

1275 /J. 
829  7i. 

i.  G 

1009 

XX.  7-18 

1150«. 

xxxvi.  4      1082 »i.,  111(5  f. 

i.  15 

813* 

XX.  9  ff. 

1109 

xxxvi.  9f.     940,1082;*.*, 

ii.  1-iv.  4 

1080  f. 

XX.  14-18 

1112 

1118f. 

ii.  3 

1087* 

xxi.  1-10 

1215* 

xxxvi.  11-24 

843,  1119f. 

ii.  lOf. 

1080* 

xxii.  1-9 

ll(i« 

xxxvi.  32 

1082 

ii.  15  f. 

1083* 

xxil.  10,  27 

301,  1082, 

xxxvii. 

1220-1224 

ii.  18 

108.3* 

1145 

xxxvii.5      10;J4?i.,  1218* 

ii.  28 

1087* 

xxii.  15  ff. 

10(59 

xxxvii.  7 

1222 

ii.  30 

1083,  1087* 

xxii.  20-;i0 

1144-1147* 

xxxvii.  14  f. 

1221 

iii.  1 

419 

xxii.  24  ff. 

1079,  1081 

xxxvii.  15  ff. 

559 

iii.  (5-18 

1086  «. 

xxiii.  1-8 

1101*,  12(53 

xxxvii.  21 

34,  851 )(. 

iii.  17 

553 

xxiii.  9ff. 

11(52 

XXX  viii. 

1227-1229 

iv.-vi. 

813,  1091 

xxiv.  Iff. 

11(5(5,  127.) 

xxxviii.  4 

1216 

iv.  7 

1115 

XXV.  1,  2 

1115 

xxxviii.  5 

1151,  1221 

V.  15, 17 

813 

XXV.  3 

813 

xxxviii.  19 

1221  n. 

V.  31 

1017  ?i. 

XXV.  8,  9 

1115* 

xxxviii.  20 

121(5/!. 

vi.  13 

589 

XXV.  9 

1054,  1091, 

xxxviii.  25 

.V)9 

vi.  22f. 

813 

1115 /t. 

xxxix.  2-8 

i2;?o-i2:!;{ 

vii.-x. 

1093-1099 

XXV.  20 

10.32  n. 

xxxix.  3 

1232/*., 

vii.  4-11 

1093* 

XXV.  25 

11(53 

1233  n.*.  1370 

vii.  14 

490 

XXV.  26 

1403  n. 

xxxix.  11-14 

1242  71. 

vii.  16  ff. 

836,  10(58, 

XX vi.  6 

4itO 

xl. 

1242-1246 

1094* 

XX vi.  7-24 

10«»2 

xl.  14 

1213 

2r 


r    i 


m 

II- i 


460 

INDEX   11 

xli. 

§  124<!-124» 

vli.  27 

5  1.112  n. 

xxvii.  1.1, 17 

§45 

xll.  9 

1247  «.* 

viii.  1-4 

1170 

xxvii.  18 

1213/*. 

xlii. 

1252  f . 

vlii.  1    1I7( 

n.,  1185,  1311 

xxviii.  3 

1201//. 

xliii. 

12.''4  f . 

viii.  3 

Win  11. 

xxviii.  20-24 

1213//.* 

xliii.  lOff. 

i:«Mi 

viii.  :M4 

llH2-n'.K) 

xxviii.  26 

1194//. 

xliv. 

12.'j(if. 

viii.  10 

118;i/t.* 

xxix.-xxxii. 

\:m 

xliv.  1 

V2rA 

viii.  15  (. 

1191 

xxix.  17  ff.        i;u.5,  vm 

xliv.  17  ff. 

m\,  I'jm 

viii.  17 

1191//.* 

XXX.  14  ff. 

770  ;i. 

xlv. 

1242 

ix. 

ii!)ir. 

xxxi.  3ff. 

833* 

xlvl.  2 

827,  1043,  10H4 

ix.2ff. 

1272 

xxxii.  17-.12 

1.166 /t. 

xlvi.  3-12 

1088  f. 

X. 

1193 

xxxii.  24  f. 

1 163 

xlvi.  9 

1089  ». 

xi. 

llJM-lllN) 

xxxiii. 

i;W2 

xlvi.  13fT. 

r.m 

xi.  10,  18  f. 

119.5* 

x.x.xiii.  2ff. 

1337 

xlvi.  17 

im'ui* 

xii. 

11S>7  f. 

xxxiii.  15 

.584 

xlvi.  25 

770  H. 

xii.  10 

1.312 //. 

xxxiii.  24 

1243 

xlvii.ff. 

324 

xiii.-xvi. 

1198-1202 

xxxiii.  26 

1.3;«) 

xlvii.  1 

1034  «.,  1222 

xiii.  10  ff. 

11.54 

xxxiii.  30  f. 

133<i  n. 

xlvii.  4 

KMi  n. 

xiii.  17  ff. 

851 11. 

XXXV.  5 IT. 

1240//. 

xlviii. 

273  n. 

xiv.  1 

1170/*.,  1311 

XX xvii.  27 

399 

xlviii.  U 

umii. 

xvi.  3 

l(K)*,434/». 

XXX  viii. 

814 

xlix.  1  ff. 

273/i.,  274, 

xvi..53 

;«)i 

xl.-xlviii.      1178/t.,  1:M4, 

1213 

xvii. 

1209 

1362 

xlix.  19 

1109  n. 

xvii.  13  f. 

1152,  ll.-)<i* 

xlv.  7ff. 

1.312//. 

xlix.  :t4  ff. 

1103 

xvii.  1(!,  19 

1209/(. 

xlv.  18  f. 

1344 

1.  1-li.  58 

1403 

xvii.  18  ff. 

1148 

xlv.  22ff. 

M4(}».. 

1.21 

339,  1403 /(. 

xvii.  20 

1197 

xlvi.  2ff. 

1312//. 

1.23 

1088 

xviii. 

1204 

xlvii.  1-12 

1291  n. 

H.  1 

1403/1. 

xviii.  6 

i:»44 

xlvii.  16 

349 

li.  41 

1403*1. 

xviii.  7,  12, 

10               584 

li.  44 

li.  .Wff. 

1105)  H. 
1171  f. 

xix.  4 
xix.  5-9 

718,  10.39 
1143 

DANIEL 

lii.  5-14, 17-24    12:t0-1233 

xix.  0 

1039 

i.l 

1075/1. 

lii.  28-30 

1234,  1280 

xix.  10  ff. 

1209 

ii.  1,48 

1201  /I. 

XX.  1-44 

1200 

iii.  16ff. 

1169  n. 

LAMENTATIONS 

XX.  1 

XX.  12 

1176  »i.,  1.311 
1;M4 

viii.  2, 16 
X.5 

106 
1192 

i.  4  etc. 
ii.  9 

12.38 
12.59 

XX.  49 
xxi. 

1336n. 
1210 

HOSEA 

ii.  18 

8(Xin. 

xxi.  3 

1039 

i.  4 

240,  312 

ii.  20 

12:i0 

xxi.  21  f. 

1210* 

i.  7 

320 

iv.  10 

1230 

xxii. 

1212 

i.  11 

315 

iv.  22 

1240  n. 

xxii.  12  f. 

595 

ii.2ff. 

426 

V.7 

1205 

xxii.  20 

1017 /(. 

ii.  11        940,994 

1346  n. 

xxii.  30 

1154 

ii.  16 

418 

EZEKIEL 

xxiii. 

1212 

iii.  2 

427 

i.  2 

1174 

xxiii.  14 

118:$ /(. 

iii.  4f.             312 

,  1211  n. 

i.  4-28 

117(i 

xxiii.  23 

339 

iv.-xiv. 

312 

i.  4 

1402  «. 

xxiii.  ,38 

1314 

iv.  4f. 

589 

ii.  17  ff. 

r.m 

xxiv.  1  f . 

1214 

iv.  13  ff. 

lliX) 

iii.  7ff. 

117(5 

XXV.  ff . 

324 

iv.  15 

320 

iii.  15 

1296*,  1.3;!()». 

XXV.  1  ff. 

1213 

iv.  16  f. 

275  n. 

iii.  22-27 

117C/1.,  1178  >t. 

XXV.  1(5 

192  n. 

v.  Iff. 

1017 

iv.-vii. 

1178-1180 

xxvi.-xxviii.               i;«)7 

V.  1 

1244 

iv.  4ff. 

1179*,  1.344 

XX vi.  Iff. 

1240 //. 

v.  3 

275  //. 

V.  11 

i;U4 

xxvii. 

I.  app.  3 

V.  9 

275/1. 

vi.  4,  6 

321 

xxvii.  7 

66 

,  V.  10 

320 

INDEX   11 


7  §45 

VMln. 

i  11' 13//.* 

11!>4//. 

v.m 
I'Mr,,  i.m 

770 //. 

83;i* 

111)3 
1342 
1337 
5«4 
l'-'43 

13;«) 
I3;«i  n. 
1240//. 

mt 

814 

178  /*.,  1344, 

i;«!2 

1312/1. 

i;i44 

134<j//. 

1312 //. 

1204  n. 

349 


467 


EL 


1075  n. 
1201  //. 

ll«i>M. 

lOG 
1192 


240,  312 
320 
315 
42f) 
M,  134«w. 
418 
427 
i2,  1211  n. 
312 
589 
1190 
320 
275  n. 
1017 
1244 
275  11. 
275  n. 
320 


V.  11 

V.  13 

V.  18 

vi.4 

vi.  (i 

vi.  10 

vi.  11 

vii.  3 

vii.8ff. 

vii.  12 

viii.  8-10 

viii.  14 

ix.  3  f. 
ix.  ti 
ix.  13,  17 
X.  5  f. 
X.  14  f. 
xi.  1 
xi.  8 
xi.  10 
xi.  12 
xii.  1 
xii.  2 
xii.  7 
xiii.  1 
xiii.  10  f. 
xiii.  15  f. 


§314 
314* 
941 
32() 
1011 
275/). 
320 
638,  587 
313  f. 
1197 
314* 
320 
.'i03,  314* 
313 
314 
299  n.*,  355 
314* 
ICtT),  432 
275  //. 
I.  app.  11 
320 
313 
320 

rm 

275 //. 
314* 

aw 


vi.  5 
vi.  (i 
vi.  7 
vi.  14 
vii.7fT. 
vii.  10 
vii.  14 
vii.  15 
vii.  ](J 
vii.  17 
viii.  5 
viii.  0 
viii.  14 
i.\.  4 
ix.  7 


§  !I09 

275;t.,5<N; 

.'102 

2(12/).,  ;«)2,  1137* 

Mi', 

IMO 

570 

5138 

WO//. 

;«o2  f. 

5!((i,  Vm  n. 

541,  5<N! 

930 

;!(I2 

•%  100 /i.,  297 


lii.8-10 
iii.  10  f. 
iii.  18 


§770 

78 
731  //. 


HAH.VKKITK 


i.  2-ii.  4 
i.  0 
ii.  5 
ii.  <;-20 


1130-11.(2* 

1137/t. 

113-.* 

Il.T) 


iii.       718,  909,  1  I.M),  1410 


OBADIAII 

10  ff.  1078/1.,  1240 //. 

MICAU 


ZKI'IIANIAII 


i.,ii. 
ii. 
ii.5 
ii.8ff. 
ii.  i;{-15 
iii.  4 


8.'tf» 

324,  814 

192 /(. 

273//. 

8;«»* 

589,  1017  //. 


i.-iii. 
i.3f. 


JOEL 


iii.  6 


i.  f. 
i.  1 
i.  3ff. 
i.  6-8 
i.  9 
ii.  4 
ii.  6f. 
ii.  8 
iii.  2 
iii.  Off. 
iv.  1 
iv.  2  f. 
iv.  fi  ff. 
iv.  10  ff, 

V.  3 
V.  5 

v.  8,  18, 
V.  11  f. 
V.  15 
V.  10  f. 
V.  21  ff. 
V.  27 
vi.  2  ff. 


13 


10-10 
14  ff. 
,  iii. 
Iff. 
9 

.'It. 
.5 
.6-11 


n. app. 4 

AMOS 

324 

II.  app.  6 

244,  254,  264,  274 

689    iii.  12 
1213  n.    iv.  1  ff. 
.320    V.  .3-5 
541,  lliM)    V.  12  f. 
684,  59(),  1017    vi.  5 
774//.    vi.6-8 
.355    vi.  7 
5!Mi    vi.  8 
;302,  ;5.-)5    vi.Off. 
264,541    vi.  lOf. 
34,264,2()5,59(;,    vi.  16 
707    vii.  2 
264,  518    vii.  3 
9,30    vii.  8 
20  2(]6 

641,  595,  5!  Hi 
275//. 
355 
1011 
.302 
111  n.,  355 


718,  140.3 
II.  app.  H 
;556*,  909 
319 
045 
798//. 
798//. 
683,  (m 
.585 
644 
.')95 
321,689,(i44, 
1017 
II.  app.  8,  12;«i 
553,  (K)4 
I.  app.  12,  ()03 
321,  ()44 
895 

lorxi 

8.") 

601,  1419 

7{t8  //. 

596 

319 

m\ 

69.-)*,  1200 
1078  /(. 


ZECHARIAH 

ii.  11 
viii.  20  ff. 


ix.  1  »T. 
ix.  (i 


.')53 
55.3 
324 
2.-58  ».,  315 
II.  app.  4 


ix.  13   Lapp.  11, IL app. 4 

X.  6  315 

X.  11  7,;o 

•^i.  1-17  315 

X'.  3  llOit//. 

xii.  11  I.  app.  5 

xiii.  11  1411  ,j 

xiv.  5  2*»5 


MALACHI 


i.6 
ii.Of. 
ii.  10 


.326,  4.'«« 

1015 

432  and  n. 


2  MACCABEES 
ii.  1  ff.  1244 


MATTHEW 


NAHUM 

i.-iii.  831-8.33 

•'.•'^5  8.32  n. 

''•«  827  m.* 

ii.llf.  78,833*,  1032 


i.  12  ff. 
iii.  4 
v.  8 
v.  31 
vi.  9 
vii.  12 
vii.  15 


1147 

584  //. 

1009 

419 

4.33 

619 

584 /t. 


468 

INDEX   II 

viii.  28 
xi.8 

§1.30h. 
384 /t. 

ROMANS 

HEBREWS 

xvi.  18 

12;«  ». 

vii.  1  f.                        §  419 

ii.  10  ff. 

§429 

XXV.  44 

141.5  «. 

viii.  29                          429 

X.  38 
xi.  1 

1133  71. 
1133  n. 

MARK 

2  CORINTHIANS 

xi.  32 
xi.  37 

929  71. 
805  n. 

vii.  13 

10i»7  n. 

v.  1                                4«5 

Xii.  23 

429 

LUKE 

GALATIANS 

1 

PETER 

vii.9 

1008  n. 

iv.  1                         428  n* 

iii.  6 

418 

vii.  25 

584  «. 

vi.  10                             407 

xii.  13  f. 
XV.  11  ff. 

486n. 
433 

vi.  14                            109!» 

2 

i.  13  f. 

PETER 

405 

xviii.  2ff. 

5!X) 

EPHESIANS 

ii.  19                              407 
iii.  15                           39i)* 

1 

iii.  3 

JOHN 

1009 

ix.7 

JOHN 

1308,1. 

v.22ff.                          420 

REVELATION 
V.  2                                713 

xi.39 

785  «. 

vii.  3 

1192 

xiv.  6 

1008  >i. 

PHILIPPIANS 

i.  1                                 407 

xvi.  Ifi 
XX.  7  IT. 

145 

ix.  11 

ACTS 

34  n. 

COLOSSIANS 

xxi.  3 
xxi.l2ff. 

399 

I2a3  71. 

xii.  20 

45 

i.  15,  18                         429 

xxii.  3f. 

m* 

B.    INSCRIPTIONAL 


Is;   :;  ■     ■ 


Amarna  tablets 

IV,  5 

§755* 

46,1-9 

§229 

Br.  M. : 

IV,  16,  23ff 

756 

63,  13 

673 

2 

§149 

IV,  2 

759 

66-68      311 

331  f .,  3.'i4, 

8,9 

154,  162 

IV,  29 

761* 

I.  app.  13 

28,30 

154  77. 

72  f.             331  f.,  334  f. 

(^4 

152 

Cb.: 

98,  2 

242» 

AN: 

2,-)877.,293?i 

,311 

,»llrt. 

(1  R,  17-26) 

217  ff. 

CIS: 

Mesha  stone : 

1,4 

57* 

U.i.pl.l-14,15ff 

•» 

lines  9  ff. 

235,274 

1,25 

57 

73  ff. 

87571. 

Mon.  (Ill  R,  7  f.) : 

III,  17  ff. 

219  77. 

2<»-75 

227 

Ill,  23  f. 
BA: 

223 

Deluge  Story : 
line  108 

74871. 

78  ff. 
Nab.  Annals. 

228* 

II,257(Cyru.s) 

139371.* 

"Gudea": 

II,  HI 

1392  77. 

II,25Hff.(Merodach- 

B,VI,()4 

98 

II,  Iff. 

10.^2 

baladaii) 

6(j57t. 

II,  15-18 

1387  7).*, 

Bab.  Chr. : 

K: 

1388  77. 

I,  2.VJ8 

342 

2801 

172 

III,  12-18 

1395* 

H,  39ff. 

739 

3082,  3086 

756 

III,  19  f.. 

1397* 

HI,  18ff. 

739  77. 

4;$78,  col.  V, 

vi 

737  n. 

Ill,  21  f. 

1.398  71. 

Ill,  28 

740  77. 

4668 

758 

Ill,  22  f . 

139()  77. 

HI,  34ff. 

744,  746« 

Ill,  24ff. 

1397  77. 

iii.nyff. 

751 

Lay.: 

Neb. : 

IV,  9,  17  f. 

752 

17,  4-7 

2<t3 

I,  55ff. 

1054* 

IV,  3,  G 

753 

29 

331  £. 

,  334f. 

H,  12  ft. 

1053 

INDEX   II 


§429 

1133  71. 

929  n. 

805  7^. 

429 


418 


4(J5 


1009 

["ION 

713 

1192 

145 

814 

399 

1233  n. 

407» 


227 
228* 


VIII,  29-44 
VIII,  64  f. 

Obel.(Lay,  87flP.): 
2(M9 

54-(i6 
83  ff. 
96  ff. 
138 


§  10(!2« 
1062 «.* 


227 
229 
237 
242 
243  n. 


PCX  (OBT)  : 
I 

pi.  2  f)2 

pi.  4.  f)9 

Pl.  9-13  104 

pl.  32.    1031  w.,  lO.'-^* 
IX: 

nr.48    1308  n.,  1324  w. 
nr.49  1^24  ?i. 

IR: 

2,  nr.  Ill,  IV      104,108 

3,  nr.  VII  ()i 

^  104 

7,  VIII,  1       II.app.l2* 

8,  nr.  3  S20n. 

-^  180 

29-31  047 

29, 3<)-53  247 

35,  nrs.  1-4  248  ff 

35,  nr.  4,  21  ff.  170 

38,  34-39,  41  675  ff  * 

39,42ff.  7;5;j 

39, 50-61  734* 

40, 2(i  ,j7 

41,  Iff.  119., 

41,21ff.  7;,,„ 

41,47-42,23  7;{9 

42, ;«  ff.  74 

43,  8  f.  743  ».« 

43,  23  ff.  ,,7 

44,  r>5  ff.  74., 

45,  I,  10  ff.  7-,;j 

45,11,6    7.58  7i.«,  7,^9  «' 

45,  11,32  ff.  7,-,, 

46,  III,  25  7.-,-,« 
4(i,  IV,  8  ff.  7,;o 

47,  V,  11  7,ji 
49,  col.  i.,  ii.  740,  74«« 
49,  col.  iii.,  iv.  749* 
«7,  col.  i.  14  1370  «.• 
6!MI,29;  111,27  !»4  n. 
69,11,48;  111,28    95  ?i 


II  R: 

1«,  32 
45,  II,  29 
50,  20  f . 
50,  28  f . 
63.  39.  57 
«7,  5,  42 
52-55 
(JO 

«7,  57-66 
III  R: 

3,  nr.  6 

4,  nr.  2 
4,  nr.  7 
6,  nr.  6 
9,  nr.  2 
l»,;iOff.  (nr.3) 


§1346n.« 

1403  71. 

1058  n. 

1285  71. 

59      2.50 

293,  340,  311 

3.34 

314  71. 

336-338 


2,  126-326       §  777 
3,27ff.        *„9 

3,  9f)  ff.  wgQ 
3,  128  ff.  -4,  41  782 
*'"7ff.  78,  „. 
5,  ;«  f.  7j^ 
5,  ;«)-7,  81  785 
«,107ff.  88,-07,7a5«. 
7,  82-10, 5  786-789 
8.27ff.,  9.42ff., 

!>',  103  ff.,  9, 

,,  "3ff.      788 «. 

r^'»-7       13.31,,. 

2^'"ff-       13.32  „. 
29,  nr.  1,  6      ngg 

123 

'^'  «         1398  «. 
c<;>,  <-15        j393» 

3.>,  16-19         ];5(,r,« 

3.^,20-22  1378  „. 

3._.,  2<.a5  1397 ,,_ 

•io,  31  f.  94,  i3,^,» 

S.'),  32  f .  1398 

55-57  178 

(i2,5ff.  778  „. 

M.  1, 18-33    r.m* 

W,  I,  32  825  71. 
^^.1.41  125,,. 
fi4,  II,  56  ff.       87 

♦^-11.7       117  n. 


2005  7,.„ 

,  2027  J;5 

oargon : 

1-  55-57,  76,  77 

II.  app.  3 

1.  94-99       ,j;fO* 

1.207f.        KJO 

1.21.5-228  II.  app.  4* 

^/•2.35f.    II.  app.  6 

pl.l.l.lOff, 

I.  app.  16» 
pl-  -'iO  f.,  1.  23-25 

I-  app.  16* 
pl-  3-3  f.  II.  app.  4» 
pl-38, 1.31f. 

I-  ai)p.  16 

pl.  44f.       ,i;!l, 

II.  ai)p.  4* 


p 


I : 


470 

INDEX 

II 

pi.  48, 1.  8 

VII: 

p.  148-152   (II   B, 

11.  app.  f)* 

43  f . 

§  178  n. 

66,  III  R,  4)    §  175 

TP: 

(iO-70 

172 

(I  R,  1-16) 

§17i» 

TSBA: 

I ,  «2  ff . 

176  u. 

V,422 

91 

ZA: 

VI: 

II,69ff.               1051  n. 

;?{M8 

17!>* 

UAG: 

IV,  406                        92 

58-8i 

180/1. 

p.  145-147 

113 

C.    JOSEPHUS 

Ant.  : 

X,  11,  2 

136971. 

1,20        1059n.,13<i9  7i. 

VllI,  5,  3 

42  n. 

XI,  2 

141671. 

I,  21                      1365  n. 

IX,  4,  3 

681 

Apion  : 

IX,  14,  2 

42  «. 

1,14 

i:36 

X,0,  1 

man* 

I,  19           1056 

71.,  1057* 

D.    GREEK  AND   ROMAN 


i3 


Herodotus : 

I,  195 

§i0(;4 

Iliad  : 

I,  15.  104 

§758 

I,  19i) 

1332  n. 

i.  37               II.  app.  13 

1,87 

1388  n. 

II,  141 

705* 

xii.  299ff.,  xviii. 

1,105 

812 

II,  157                812,  1032 

161  f .                §  719 

I,  107-124 

1384  H. 

II,  153.  159 

1031 

Oihjssei/,  xi.  14        758  71. 

I,  125.  127 

1385 

11,161.163.169 

1365  71. 

.■Eiieul,  i.mSff.           547 

I,  178  flf. 

105<>7i., 

IV,  11.  12 

758 

Ovid,  iVfi/.  i.  85     100<)7t. 

10581!. 

IV,  42 

1031 

Diodorus,  II.  26       827  n. 

1,180 

34n. 

,10597*. 

VII,  11 

1378/1. 

F\my,  Hist.  Xat. 

1,181      106271. 

,  1063  7i. 

Xenoplion,    Anah. 

V,  11,()5                787  71, 

I,  183 

11«2  n. 

III.  4,  9 

827/1. 

Lucian,  Charon,  ch.  23 

1,194 

130571. 

827/1. 

ll 


!  (II  R. 

I  R,  4)    §  175 


1051  n. 
'^2 


59n.,  13<i9ra, 
13(j5  n. 


II. 

app.  13 

xviii. 

§719 

4 

758  n. 

ff. 

547 

85 

1009  «. 

26 

827  «. 

at. 

787  n. 

n,  ch.  23 

827/1. 

